


Lend me your heart, I swear I won't break it

by orphan_account



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, But tons of fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Pining, Post-Season/Series 03, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22414390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In the aftermath of Angela's death, there are very few people Elliot can confide in. One of which he never saw himself inviting into his personal life, but the world's a crazy place, and any sense of normalcy was lost the second he executed five/nine. Sometimes all there is to be done is take what life gives you, for better or for worse.
Relationships: Elliot Alderson & Tyrell Wellick, Elliot Alderson/Tyrell Wellick
Comments: 22
Kudos: 102





	Lend me your heart, I swear I won't break it

The apartment is about halfway destroyed when the door opens. Elliot doesn’t hear it, of course, as he’s occupied picking up the tiny table that sits in front his couch and throwing it at the floor. He’s about to take his computer monitor and smash it into pieces when a strong force grabs him from behind. He starts to thrash like a wild animal as panic sets in amongst the grief and rage whirling up a tornado inside him. 

_They killed her, now they’re going to kill me_ , he thinks, continuing to try and free himself from the person’s crushing hold. The person’s voice slows his efforts.

“Elliot, Elliot! It’s me! It’s Tyrell. Calm down.”

Elliot does stop thrashing, but he still makes weak moves to get away from Tyrell, whose arms are securely wrapped around his upper body and keeping his own arms pinned to his sides.

“Let me go,” Elliot says, and pushes back against him.

“You’re destroying your apartment, Elliot. I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he says with a tone that reminds Elliot of a parent talking to their child who’s throwing a tantrum. Rage is boiling up Elliot’s insides. 

“Why the fuck do you care?” he spits, and when Tyrell doesn’t give an immediate response Elliot gives another violent thrash and manages to knock them both to the floor. Still, Tyrell remains his hold.

“Let me go! Fucking let go of me!” Elliot yells at Tyrell, hoping somehow his desperation will convince him. It doesn’t.

“Elliot, please stop. Just tell me what happened.”

She flashes in his mind again. Her picture, anyway. Two ugly, gaping holes in her skull and dark blood staining her hair His stomach twists and lurches, tears burning in his eyes. His skin is hot with rage, and grief is sucking his heart into a blackhole.

“She’s dead. She’s fucking dead,”and saying it with words, verbalizing the worst reality he could have ever thought up, feels like a cinderblock being thrown against his chest.

“Who is?”

Elliot doesn’t say anything for a moment. Or maybe it’s minutes. Probably only a moment. It hurts too much to register the passing of time, and he’s not sure he could do it even if he tried to focus. The only thought running through his head is _why does it always have to hurt so much?_

“Angela,” he breathes, almost choking.

Tyrell is silent behind him. His grip isn’t as tight now, but Elliot doesn’t bother to move. He’ll just get held tighter if he tries to free himself again, and really, he doesn’t care now. Whatever Tyrell does or doesn’t do isn’t a concern to Elliot now.

“I’m sorry, Elliot.” 

Elliot wonders if the clashing of his rage and grief will make him pass out. Such different emotions happening at once, it’s disorienting. He thinks the grief is taking control, settling into his bones and every fiber of his muscles. The blackhole inside his chest feels like it’s only growing. He’s painfully aware of his own heart beat, and how the muscle is beating against his ribcage. He wonders why hearts feel almost as if they’re inverting when grief is consuming every part of you.

The rage subsides, just for the time being, and the grief takes total control, filling him up. Elliot thinks he prefers being angry. It doesn’t hurt the same way grief does. Tyrell is still holding him. He doesn’t know if the man has spoken or not, too absorbed in the tornado of emotions and chaos of his own brain. Whatever he may have said isn’t important anyway.

The tears welled up on the rim of his eyes blur his vision, and then they’re sliding down his cheeks, dripping off his chin. Then he can’t even feel the tears because he’s crying, sobbing too much to notice the sensation on his face. Tyrell, so loyally, still keeps a firm hold around his body. He wishes he’d let go. He’s never liked being vulnerable around people, never liked being vulnerable in general. But sometimes everything’s too much, and there’s no way Elliot can keep his emotions in check to hide them away from view.

It’s hurting more and more, though. His heart feels like it’s going to stop working at any second, the strain inside his chest is so intense. Against any clear-headed thought, he twists himself in Tyrell’s arms and buries his face into Tyrell’s suit jacket, sobbing all his tears and snot into the expensive material. He hates it, really. His skin tingles with the discomfort of the contact, but he can’t fight that instinctual need to be held and comforted in his most exposed state. He feels Tyrell’s arms move to rest in a nicer position, more like a hug now. 

“I’m sorry, Elliot. I really am,” Tyrell says. His hands rub against Elliot’s back, and he presses his face carefully into his hair. Elliot’s pretty sure he plants a kiss to his head, but he’s not that much in it to think about the action, too busy trying to choke down his sobs and have some semblance of control over himself.

Slowly, terribly slow, Elliot’s sobs start to lessen. He figures it’s only because there’s no more tears to cry, and his abdomen is starting to burn from the heaving sobs. His breaths are harsh, his nose too congested to breathe through. He knows his eyes must look like someone punched him, because they definitely feel like it. 

Tyrell isn’t holding him down anymore. His arms are around him, but it’s a gesture of comfort now, not an attempt to stop Elliot from destroying everything around him. Elliot could probably move, but he stays there in Tyrell’s arms. He’s too exhausted to bother with getting up. His eyelids feel heavy. His entire body feels heavy. Everything is heavy. 

______

Elliot’s brain is awake before the rest of him is. The way you sometimes gain consciousness in the morning after you’ve slept, but your eyes haven’t opened yet, and you have a vague idea of your own senses. The first sensation he notices is that he’s in his bed. He doesn’t remember getting in it, though. The second sensation is there’s a mass of heat against the back of his knees. Flipper. He feels an immediate tug of regret, as he surely terrified her last night. His eyes open before his brain fully registers the third sensation.

Something’s got a hold of his hand. No, someone. Tyrell is holding his hand, sitting in his desk chair that’s now been pulled to the bedside.

He remembers, then. Tyrell had come into his apartment while he was halfway through demolishing it. Elliot casts a glance at his apartment, some things having been organized, but there’s still evidence of what he’d broken. Evidence that last night was real. That Angela is dead.

That terribly familiar strain swells in his chest. The image of her flashes across his mind. A whine almost escapes his throat, and Tyrell stirs. Ah, the whine did escape his throat. Tyrell blinks away the fuzziness of sleep as he realizes Elliot’s awake. He grips his hand tighter, and Elliot lets him.

______

Tyrell has been trying to talk to him. Sending him calls, texts, emails. He even left a note on a package of food delivered to Elliot’s apartment. Elliot doesn’t eat any of it. He gives Flipper whatever’s in there that she can eat.

Tyrell sends texts, calls, and emails for a week. Elliot doesn’t answer them. Then Tyrell is standing in Elliot’s apartment again, Flipper sniffing at his shoes and whining.

“Have you taken her out?” he asks, and Elliot thinks it’s a strange sight to watch Tyrell lean down to rub her ears. He never imagined him liking animals.

“I did sometime,” Elliot answers. He’s not lying. He did take her out. He can’t remember when, though. He wishes he could make himself take better care of her. She’s never done anything to deserve an owner who can’t even take her out for consistent walks. Elliot tries to console himself with the fact he’s given her food and water, but he’s almost out of food. He’ll have to do something about that soon.

Tyrell gives him a look he can’t really describe. Disappointed, or maybe upset. Probably both. He sighs.

“I’ll take her out.” He looks around himself for a moment until he sees the leash hanging on the wall. Elliot watches him clip the leash to her collar and leads her out, closing the door behind him. For a brief moment, he considers giving her to Tyrell, but he pushes the thought away immediately. He loves Flipper too much to give her up.

He leans himself back on his bed, and stares at the yellowed ceiling. There’s nothing in his head. There’s fragments of thoughts, but nothing more than that. He either lays in his bed like this, or spends his time on his computer figuring out what to do about Whiterose. He’s struggling to even do that, the shock of Angela’s death gripping the forefront of his mind too much to be able to push it down and focus on tasks.

Darlene called him yesterday, he thinks. Some time this week. He didn’t tell her about Angela. Not yet. He will, though. That, or she’ll find out on her own. He hopes she doesn’t. He really hopes she doesn’t.

Tyrell comes back a little bit later. He has a sandwich wrapped up in tinfoil. Elliot knows it’s for him. Maybe when he leaves he can give it to Flipper, ut, of course, Tyrell doesn’t leave. He sets the food on the counter and comes over to Elliot’s bed, sitting on his side at the edge.

“You haven’t eaten any of what I sent you,” Tyrell says.

Elliot blinks at him. “How do you know that?”

“Because if you had, you wouldn’t look like you haven’t eaten in days.” Tyrell turns his body to face him better, reaching out an arm to brace on the bed. His hand is close to Elliot’s side. “Will you go to the store with me?”

Elliot furrows his brow. “Why?”

“Because I want you to. And I know you’re not going to get Flipper any food unless someone makes you.”

Elliot stares up at the ceiling, considering. The last thing he really wants to do is go outside, but he has a feeling Tyrell will make him even if he says no.

“Fine. Just let me put on a clean shirt,” he says and sits up, sliding off his bed to get a shirt.

“Of course,” Tyrell replies, and Elliot just barely catches the satisfied smile on his face as he glances back before stepping into his bathroom.

Tyrell is waiting by the door when he comes back out. Elliot gives Flipper an apologetic pat on the head before grabbing his wallet and keys and stopping in front of Tyrell.

“Ready?” Tyrell asks.

“Yeah,” Elliot replies. He’s not really ready. 

Tyrell opens the door and walks out, not waiting up while Elliot steps out and pulls the door shut, making sure to lock it. He’s been forgetting to do that lately. It’s going to bite him in the ass one day. When he gets outside he sees Tyrell has already gotten into the back seat of his car. Elliot opens the door and slides in, casting a quick look at the driver’s seat to see Sutherland. Tyrell must have already told him where they’re going, because as soon as Elliot closes the car door they start driving.

“We’re going where I get groceries from, and it’s a bit far from your apartment,” Tyrell says. Elliot’s not sure why he says it. It’s useless information. He doesn’t care where they go. Tyrell will be the one shopping, not him. He just wants to get it over with.

“Okay,” he answers anyway, and tries to bury himself into the leather seats. The hood of his jacket is a nice buffer between his head and the cold glass of the window as he leans against it. He’s content to stare out at the buildings and the blur of people on the streets. Silence hangs between them. That is, until Tyrell decides he feels like disrupting it after a few minutes go by.

“What do you usually eat?”

“Whatever’s around.” Elliot hears Tyrell sigh beside him. He doesn’t need to look to know that Tyrell has screwed up his face with displeasure.

“I didn’t see any food besides stale saltines and popcorn in your apartment, so, clearly, you don’t eat anything,” Tyrell says.

“You shouldn’t go through my stuff,” Elliot replies without a thought. He can feel Tyrell’s eyes boring into him now. He waits to hear Tyrell snap at him, but the man remains miraculously silent. Elliot turns his head enough to get a glimpse of him, staring ahead with a pensive expression. He watches him close his eyes, watches the way his chest draws up when he takes in a deep breath.

“What would you like to have to eat then?” Tyrell asks, and Elliot doesn’t miss the hint of annoyance in his voice. Elliot continues to watch him from the corner of his eye as he thinks about a genuine answer he can give.

“I like pizza,” he offers.

Tyrell actually laughs. It’s more like a huff of air, but a smile is pulling at the corners of his mouth. So, it’s a laugh. His sour attitude seems to have fallen away in an instant. Elliot wonders if his mood always changes that fast.

“I don’t believe they have pizza at the store we’re going to,” he says. “but maybe I can take you to a nice Italian restaurant sometime.”

Tyrell is looking at him now, a small smile on his lips. Elliot holds his gaze, and Tyrell doesn’t break it. He’s always made eye contact, no matter if Elliot reciprocated or not. There’s something there in the reflective blue of his eyes. Elliot can’t place what it is, and it bothers him. He’s always been able to read people pretty well, and their eyes often give them away. Even though Elliot often couldn’t look long, he could still take a nice glance and get a good idea of what they were feeling. In most cases it wasn’t that Tyrell didn’t express anything with his eyes, he surely did, but it was too hard to understand. When Elliot looks at his eyes all he sees is a flurry of emotions, as if Tyrell’s brain can’t settle on one constant emotional state. It’s intense to look into them, but Elliot finds he’s able to do it well enough. Sometimes he doesn’t feel uncomfortable with it, either, and he’s never been sure why.

Ah, he’s been staring too long, hasn’t he? He hasn’t given an answer. He breaks the eye contact, looking towards the floor. “Yeah, sure.” He can feel that Tyrell’s eyes are still on him, and he leans his head back on the window again, a signal that he’s done talking for now. Tyrell seems to take the hint, because he doesn’t try to talk again for the rest of the ride.

______

They didn’t end up spending too long at the store, much to Elliot’s relief. He didn’t really pay attention to what Tyrell even bought him. It’s all going to go to waste anyway. Elliot wishes he’d been upfront and told Tyrell he can’t cook for shit, but as soon as they went into the store Tyrell was off gathering groceries. At least it wasn’t too much. There were some fruits he bought, which wasn’t bad. Elliot figures he could eat that, if he bothered to or remembered. He didn’t eat often before, and that had only gotten worse now. Most of the time Elliot can’t remember the last time he ate. On second thought, the fruits probably would go to waste. 

They’re back in Elliot’s apartment, Tyrell storing things away and Elliot sitting on the couch. He watches Tyrell, still deliberating on saying anything. It’s not until Tyrell has almost settled everything away that Elliot speaks up.

“You know that’s going to go to waste, right?”

Tyrell turns to look at him, expression neutral. Elliot notices his hair has fallen a little out of place. 

“Why’s that?” he asks.

Elliot half shrugs. “I don’t eat most of the time. I don’t know how to cook either.”

Tyrell turns his head away, looking down at the almost empty grocery bags. He hums low to himself. Elliot rubs his hands together, a nervous tick he’s always had.

“Well,” Tyrell starts. “I suppose I can take some of this back with me then.”

Elliot finds himself relieved that Tyrell doesn’t sound upset. He kind of expected him to be. Content with Tyrell’s new plan on taking some (hopefully most) of the groceries home with him, Elliot settles down on his side on the couch, looking down at the floor. He’s not tired, but he wants to make Tyrell think he is so he’ll leave faster. He needs to be alone right now. He had enough interaction for the day with Tyrell and going to the store. He needs to focus on Whiterose, because he’s still not got any good leads. He is getting an idea for where he should start, but he needs to be by himself to work on it. He distantly listens to Tyrell rebagging the groceries as his brain starts to go foggy with no particular thoughts.

Tyrell ends up coming over to the couch, standing still for a moment. Elliot prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that Tyrell will leave him alone. Tyrell sits down right next to Elliot’s feet.

“Is it not clear I don’t want you here?” Elliot says. He still has his eyes on the floor, so he can’t see Tyrell’s reaction. There’s a tense pause.

“I want to help you, Elliot.”

“Well I don’t want your fucking help.” Elliot spits at Tyrell. He’s turned his head to look at him now, and Elliot can see the emotions swirling in Tyrell’s eyes. There’s anger, but beneath it he can see pain. Tyrell is absolutely radiating pain. Elliot didn’t notice at first, and he’s not sure how, because now it seems so obvious. There’s a glossy look to his eyes. Tyrell’s close to crying.

“I could have left you to destroy your apartment, not bothered to send food, or even come by to take you to the store. I could very easily leave you alone, Elliot. I know that’s what you want, but I also know that being alone isn’t what you need,” Tyrell says, and his voice is thick with emotion he’s trying to keep controlled.

Elliot shakes his head minutely. “What do you know about what I need?”

Tyrell takes a couple stable breaths before speaking again. “I’ve lost my wife and my son. I know how you feel. We’ve both lost people we loved. The last thing either of us need is to be alone.”

“I have my sister,” Elliot says.

“Does she know about Angela?”

Elliot hesitates. He looks to the floor again. He feels the couch shift as Tyrell leans back into it, and hears him sniffle.

“Okay. I’ll go, but if I don’t hear anything from you for a week I’ll come back again. I suggest you answer my calls or texts if you don’t want me coming around all the time.”

Tyrell stands up, brushes down his coat and goes to grab the groceries he’d rebagged. There’s quite a few bags, and Elliot knows he should help with them, but he’s too upset to bother with it. He simply stares at Tyrell while he adjusts the bags on his arms and leaves the apartment. Elliot sighs in relief. He stays curled up on the couch for a long time, thinking about everything and nothing at once. Eventually, he drifts off to sleep. 

Tyrell appears in his dream, and in it they stand in front of a wall covered in paintings of androids. The androids are depicted half with their mechanical parts visible, the other half ripped up skin, muscle, and fat, blood splattered everywhere. Elliot feels his stomach twist at the depiction of gore. Tyrell looks curiously at the paintings, as if they were abstractions and not horror in the form of paint. Then he looks to Elliot. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Tyrell asks, and Elliot watches in frozen shock as Tyrell’s abdomen becomes soaked in red, blood spilling down onto the marble floor, and he bleeds and bleeds until all Elliot sees is red, and tastes the sharp metallic tang of blood in his mouth.

Elliot is screaming in his dream, and he jolts awake screaming, too. His chest is heaving from the fresh terror of what he saw, and there’s sweat soaking his back and the collar of his shirt. Flipper is sitting on the couch by his feet, looking at him with a cocked head. He leans up and rubs Flipper’s ears. She tries to lick at his hands and he finds himself smiling the littlest bit. She’s one of the only things keeping him sane as each day passes.

He gets up from the couch, and walks over to the kitchen counter. Tyrell left a few things for him that he could eat. Elliot ignores the bags with food and opens the one with Flipper’s food. He picks a can up and looks at the fancy packaging on it. 

“Looks like you’re eating rich people food, Flipper,” he says to her. Flipper’s ears perk up at her name being said and she jumps off the couch, coming over to Elliot’s leg and poking it with her nose. Elliot’s not sure what to think of Tyrell buying expensive dog food for her. He decides to not think about it. Not thinking is always easier.

______

Darlene ends up learning about Angela two days later.

Elliot didn’t want to tell her, but he had to. She was getting more and more worried, and Elliot couldn’t keep it from her. She needed to know, and so when she came over, asking about Angela once again, Elliot had no other choice but to tell her.

She didn’t take it well.

At first, she told Elliot to stop fucking around, that it wasn’t funny. But then she understood his silence, and Elliot wished he could erase the visual of watching her world fall apart in a matter of seconds. She’d started crying right then, and he tried to calm her down, because he knew she would start to have a panic attack. But he had never been good at comforting people, and she pushed him away, and the next thing he knew she had run out of the apartment. Elliot was left standing there in the middle of the room, wondering if it was possible for things to get any worse.

______

Another week had almost passed when Elliot texts Tyrell.

>   
>  Elliot:  
>  meet me at allsafe
> 
> Tyrell:  
>  On the way right now.  
> 

Elliot slides his phone back into his pocket. He’s already here at Allsafe, lingering around the main entrance. He pulls his hood closer over his face. He takes a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it, letting the smoke fill up his lungs as he takes a drag. Tyrell must have been in the area when Elliot texted him back because just as Elliot’s finishing his cigarette he comes walking up.

“What’s going on?” Tyrell asks.

“I wanna show you something,” Elliot says, and walks off towards an alley right behind the building, where a back door leads in. Tyrell joins him by his side, silent, following him into the building.

When they get up to the main floor Elliot’s made his base of operations, he can’t ignore the slight rush of anxiety as he leans against his desk and Tyrell approaches the glass he’s started to cover in post-it notes and various papers. Tyrell stares at it for a long while, clearly reading everything up there, taking it all in. Elliot considers lighting another cigarette to distract himself with when Tyrell finally speaks.

“This is incredible,” he says, and the breathless awe of his voice throws Elliot back to the arcade, to the night of five/nine. Tyrell was there when Elliot brought America to its knees, and it seems he would be there when Elliot takes down the driving force of the world, the top one percent of the one percent, for the final time.

Tyrell comes to stand next to him, looking at him with shining eyes. “What do you need me to do?”

“I just need you to keep doing what you’re doing,” Elliot says. “Be the CTO of Ecorp, do whatever that entails. I’ll ask if I need your help here on anything, but I’ve got it under control for now. We’ll meet up here and I’ll let you know any progress I’ve made, and you can give me information if you have any.”

“Is that the only time I’ll see you?”

Elliot actually does a double take. He's surprised by that question. He looks at Tyrell, takes in his serious expression, and struggles to think of how to reply.

“I… I don’t know.” Is all Elliot can say. 

The truth is, he doesn’t know if he wants Tyrell to leave him alone or not now. He told him he didn’t want his help, but the loneliness had snuck its way back into his chest. It never was gone, but it had been buried pretty deep down. He’d been able to ignore it. He couldn’t anymore, though. It hurt too much to not acknowledge.

“How about you come to dinner with me?” Tyrell asks. “That is, if you’re not occupied with all of this.” He gestures around the room.

Elliot stutters even more. “I, uh, I don’t really… I don’t really want to.”

There’s a distant look of disappointment in Tyrell’s eyes, but the eagerness jumps right back into his expression and Elliot knows whatever he says next he is not going to like.

“I’ll come over to your apartment and you can order something then.”

Elliot can’t stop himself from sighing, and looking down at his shoes, and gives into the requests. “Yeah. Sure. We can do that.”

“Great.” Tyrell puts a hand on his arm and smiles at him. “I’ll be seeing you tonight, then.”

Elliot raises his head and nods. Tyrell’s hand lingers on his arm, and for a brief second as they look at each other Elliot gets the fleeting thought of how it feels like he’s agreeing to a date. The thought is shoved away to the back of his mind as soon as it comes up. Tyrell’s hand starts to pull away, and his fingers brush down Elliot’s arm. It makes Elliot’s hand twitch from the shiver it brings. Another thing to be pushed to the back of his mind, to be forgotten about and never considered again. Tyrell takes a step back and starts to walk off to leave, but he stops only a few paces away to turn back around.

“Bonsoir, Elliot,” he says, and then he’s finally on his way. Elliot stares after him, feeling a little lost.

______

Tyrell texts him later what time he’ll be over. 7:00 pm. Elliot stays at Allsafe for a couple more hours, since he has the time and he’s been stumped on the current information he’s got. Once he’s done. After making minimal progress, he slides his backpack on and heads out of the building to the subway. He can’t shake off the anxiety hanging over him, and he starts to consider texting Tyrell that something urgent came up, but he manages to quell his nerves enough to not go through with it. Tyrell probably would have figured he was making up excuses and come over anyway.

When Elliot gets back into his apartment he throws his backpack down and grabs Flipper’s lead, hooking it onto her collar and rushing back out with her for a quick walk.

“I can’t have you pissing in my apartment with Tyrell over, okay?” he says to her as she tugs him over to a tree. She thankfully uses the bathroom and Elliot walks her for a couple more minutes as a treat before turning back.

Once they’re both back inside, Elliot checks the time. 5:40 pm. Elliot thinks for a moment what he could possibly order that Tyrell would eat. He really doesn’t know what the guy likes, but he has a distinct feeling the Thai food he and Darlene would get wouldn’t be to Tyrell’s liking. A few minutes of consideration leaves Elliot placing an order for pizza. He did tell Tyrell that he likes pizza, after all, and he was given the choice to pick their dinner. Really a mistake, on Tyrell’s part.

Tyrell arrives at 7:00 on the dot, just a few minutes after the pizza had been delivered. He knocks on the door, and Elliot finds it a little strange, since he seems to just enter his apartment of his own will most of the time. Tyrell eyes the pizza box as soon as he crosses the threshold, then looks to Elliot. Elliot shrugs.

“You said I could order whatever,” Elliot says. Tyrell huffs.

“I did say that.” 

Tyrell slides his suit jacket off to hang it neatly over the back of one of Elliot’s chairs, and gives him an expectant look. It takes Elliot probably a moment too long to realize Tyrell expects him to hand him a plate and a slice, and when he does he rolls his eyes and walks over to sit down on the couch.

“You know where the plates are. Get however much you want,” Elliot says and settles down onto the couch. The pizza box is on the small table in front of him. 

Tyrell stares at him with mild displeasure for a second before grabbing a plate from the cupboard and lifting the box open. Elliot watches a minute look of disgust flash across his face.

“Do you have any napkins?” Tyrell asks.

“Dude, just pick the fucking pizza up. It’s not gonna kill you.”

Tyrell furrows his brow. “I don’t like all the grease,” he says. No, _whines_. He sounds like a spoiled child.

“You’re ridiculous, man,” Elliot can’t help but grin incredulously at the way Tyrell acts. He’s too stuck up to grab a slice of pizza because of grease. Elliot wonders how he’s made it this far in life.

Tyrell does give in and grab a slice to put on his plate. He hovers at the small table, clearly considering sitting down next to Elliot. Elliot’s luck wins out and Tyrell chooses to sit down at the round table in the corner instead. Elliot looks over at him, ready to watch the way he’ll inevitably cringe after the first bite, but his phone ringing in his pocket draws his attention away. He pulls his phone out and looks at the screen. It’s Darlene.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Elliot. Fucking christ, I saw her. I saw her. She’s alive.”

Elliot feels his stomach drop.

“What?”

“I said she’s alive! I sent you my location, just come here. She’s not dead, Elliot!”

Nausea starts to overtake his body, and he has to focus on his breathing to make sure he doesn’t throw up, or even have a panic attack. Darlene’s gone hysterical. Angela isn’t alive, there isn’t any way. Elliot had seen the photo. She was gone. He’d pushed the memory of the photo back into the part of his head where everything awful went. He never wants to think about it again, but when does he ever get what he wants?

“Elliot? Elliot?”

“I’ll be there,” he chokes out and ends the call, letting his phone drop to the floor. The nausea has him bent forward, arms on his knees as he tries to calm down.

“Elliot… What’s wrong?”

Elliot screws his eyes shut. _Why does Tyrell have to be here? Why does Darlene have to lose her shit and say she saw Angela? Why can’t anything be fucking fine for one day?_

A hand touches his shoulder, and Elliot can’t stop the instinctive way he recoils. He stares up at Tyrell with wide eyes, unable to speak. Everything is too much, and his throat is tight with the sick feeling anxiety brings on. 

“Elliot,” Tyrell starts again. The way he says his name is so gentle. “What is it?” 

Elliot’s jaw shifts a few times as he works himself back up to speaking. “It’s Darlene. She needs me.”

Tyrell nods, and the concern on his face is replaced with a serious expression. “I can take you, if you want.” Elliot mutters a quick yeah and gets up from the couch, grabbing his phone from the floor and heading out the door without a second thought.

Elliot is the first into the car still parked outside, and he repeats the location Darlene had texted him to Sutherland before he’s even settled in his seat. Elliot catches the look of contempt in the man’s eyes at being ordered by someone other than Tyrell. Tyrell slides into the car a moment later, nodding his head at Sutherland to confirm what Elliot had said. Tyrell adds to Sutherland that it’s urgent, and Elliot thanks him in his head.

The ride is entirely silent, and Elliot’s never been one to be quite uncomfortable with silence, but the tension of it makes him feel like he’s going to suffocate. He ends up leaning forward until his forehead is pressed against the back of the passenger seat in front of him. He stares down at the floor. It’s abnormally clean. He remembers from the news that Joanna got shot in this car. Elliot casts a quick glance over to Tyrell. He’s staring out the window, eyes glazed, clearly not in the current moment.

It hits Elliot then. Really hits him. Tyrell lost his wife and his son. He’s entirely alone. There’s no one he can turn to. Elliot is all that he has. He realizes he’s lucky to have Darlene at all, whether she’s an emotional mess or not. He promises to himself that he’ll be there for her, and he ponders the possibility of being there for Tyrell. He’s not sure how he’d do it, but he could try. Tyrell is there for him, even though he’s rejected it so far. There’s a tight squeezing sensation in Elliot’s chest as he thinks about how dedicated Tyrell is to him.

Sutherland’s voice pulls Elliot out of his thoughts. “We’re almost there, sir.”

Elliot sits up straight, looking out the window. “Stop the car.”

“What? Why?” Tyrell asks.

“I don’t want her seeing me come up in a car she doesn’t recognize. She’s a mess right now, I don’t want to set her off,” Elliot explains. “Park nearby or something. I’ll text you in a bit.”

With that Elliot pushes the car door open and sets off on foot for the rest of the way. It’s not too far, thankfully. He keeps an eye out for the entire walk, unsure if Darlene had moved anywhere else during the ride over. When he comes to the corner of the street he’s on he finally sees her across the road on the other corner. He barely checks for traffic before he rushes over. She’s simply standing there, pacing back and forth, but when she sees him approaching she yells his name and lunges at him. The ferocity of her hug almost sends them falling onto the sidewalk.

“Jesus christ, I didn’t think you were coming,” she says, still holding him in a crushing hug.

“Sorry. I tried to get here as fast as I could.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She lets him go and takes a step back. “I have to show you where I saw her. Maybe we can figure out what’s in the area, why she’d be around, how we can find her.”

Elliot doesn’t think there’s words in any language that could describe the way he feels his heart sink at everything Darlene says. Her eyes are wide and panicked, and she’s so jittery, throwing her arms about and seeming to constantly move. 

“Darlene,” he says, firm but as gentle as he can manage. “Are you on something?”

She stops her babbling, wide eyes taking him in. There’s so much hurt in them. 

“What?” she asks.

“Are you taking drugs?” He hates to ask, but he can tell. He knows. Her silence is his answer.

Elliot looks down at the sidewalk, swallows down the thick feeling in his throat that won’t seem to go away. “She’s gone. She’s not coming back, Darlene. You gotta know that.”

More silence. He looks up at her. There’s tears streaming down her face, and her expression screws up in a sob that turns into a scream. They’re lucky no one’s really around. Darlene sits down on the sidewalk and buries her head in her hands, but she doesn’t hide the sound of her crying. Elliot looks around them nervously.

“We can’t stay out here. You can come back to my place,” Elliot says. Darlene only gasps out another sob. Elliot steels himself and reaches down to grab her arm. “Come on, seriously. We need to go.”

She thankfully lets Elliot pull her up, and once he’s sure she’s steady enough he lets go of her arm and starts to walk in the direction of the nearest subway station. Darlene lingers just behind him, and he slows down just a pace so that they’re walking side by side. He bumps her shoulder a few times, his way of letting her know he’s there. She’s stopped her tears for now.

They make it to the subway not too long later, and when they sit down Darlene closes her eyes and leans her head on his shoulder. Elliot takes the opportunity to text Tyrell that everything’s taken care of. He keeps his phone out even after he’s sent the text. He wants to say something else, but he doesn’t know what, or why he wants to say anything else at all. He pockets his phone after a moment of deliberation.

When they get back to Elliot’s apartment Darlene eyes the plate of pizza on the table, a single bite taken out of it, and the suit jacket hanging on the chair. 

“Did you have someone over?” She asks, unimpressed.

“Uh,” Elliot starts. He didn’t realize Tyrell had left his suit jacket. “No.” 

Darlene scoffs at him. “Rhetorical question. You clearly did. Sorry for ruining your night.”

“It’s fine,” he says.

She nods at him, standing in the middle of the apartment and looking at him before walking over to his bed and collapsing down onto it. Elliot pulls the door shut and turns the lock. He sets his keys down and runs a hand over the suit jacket on the chair. It’s a nice material. It’s probably worth 1,000 dollars. Tyrell will certainly want it back.

“Elliot.” He looks over to her. “Can you come here?”

He walks over to his bed and gets onto it, laying down on his back next to her. He stares up at his ceiling, feeling her eyes on him. They stay that way for a little while, before Darlene scoots closer and rests her head on his shoulder. Elliot moves his arm so that he can rest it around her. 

“She’s really gone, isn’t she?” Darlene asks, and it’s barely a whisper.

“Yeah. She is,” Elliot says.

Darlene pushes her face into his shirt and starts to cry. Elliot tightens the arm he has on her, and leans his head so that his face rests in her hair. She sobs against his arm and he lets her ruin his shirt with her tears. His chest feels like it’s caving in. He closes his eyes, and feels the hot trail of tears slide down his face.

______

Elliot wakes up in almost the exact same position he fell asleep in. Darlene is still curled close to him, but she’s lying on her side facing away from him. He lifts his head up, blinking away the sleep blurring his vision. He can feel the uncomfortable stiffness around his eyes that dried tears cause. He lays there, thinking about nothing and feeling like there’s a sinkhole in his chest. He only gets up when his phone starts to ring in his back pocket. He slides off the bed as delicately as he can and goes over to the door, unlocking it and stepping out into the hallway. He looks at his phone screen and sees it’s Tyrell. 

“Hello?” he answers.

“Good morning,” Tyrell says. “I was calling to check in. Are things alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s okay. You left your coat, by the way.”

“Ah, I did,” Tyrell realizes. “I’ll pick it up sometime. I have others. I won’t have the opportunity for a bit, though. There’s much to be done at Ecorp, now that I’m CTO, so I won’t be available for some time. Hopefully not too long.”

“It’s cool,” Elliot assures him. “I’ve got it under control.” Elliot presses his back against the wall, staring down at his shoes. He should end the call, he’s not even fond of phone calls, but there’s something that keeps him on the line.

“Maybe we…” he starts. “Uh, we can… do something else sometime.” He kind of regrets it as soon as he says it, but the offer is out there. No going back now. There’s a brief silence before he hears Tyrell hum on the other end.

“Could I take you out to a nice coffee shop? I promise it won’t be too pretentious for your tastes.”

“Sure.”

“Great. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m available. Have a good day, Elliot.”

“Yeah, you too.”

With that the phone call ends, and Elliot pulls his phone away from his ear, looking down at the screen, not sure on how he should feel. He’s never really been sure how to feel about Tyrell, and he doesn’t know if he ever will be sure. He decides it’s best to not think about it, like always, and pockets his phone, going back into his apartment. Darlene’s awake, sitting up on the bed, when he steps back inside.

“Who was that?” she asks.

“No one,” Elliot lies. She scoffs at him.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. Guess it’s none of my business who you spend your nights with anyway. Again, sorry I ruined that for you.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, Darlene. It wasn’t important.” He tries to catch her eyes, let her know he means it, because he does. Whatever him and Tyrell have isn’t more important than her, and he needs her to know that. He knows he’s been a shitty brother, and he wants to do better. He can’t fix everything he’s done in the past, but he can do better. Darlene isn’t looking at him, though. Her eyes are on her hands, twisting the hem of her shirt between her fingers.

“Darlene,” he says. “I mean it.” 

She finally looks up at him. The same hurt he saw in her eyes last night when he asked if she was taking anything is there still.

“I’m not on drugs. You know that, right?” 

Elliot feels regret swirl inside him. It was ridiculous of him to assume it, to think she’d carelessly start taking drugs that could harm her. She’s grieving, just like he is. Elliot wishes he was better with emotions, because maybe then he wouldn’t have misunderstood her actions last night as drug-induced. She was just hurting, and processing it in her way.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry I said that,” he apologizes. She nods, and gets up from the bed then, grabbing her bag from the floor. 

“I should get going. Thanks for letting me stay,” she says.

She walks up to him, and Elliot can see the purple shadows under her eyes and the smear of her makeup. She looks utterly exhausted. He takes a step forward and pulls her into a hesitant hug. He’s not the best at instigating affection, but he knows it’s what she needs. She doesn’t move for a moment, but then her arms wrap around his back, squeezing tight. They don’t say anything. They embrace for a long moment. He lets go first, and they pull apart, Darlene giving him a small smile.

“I’ll come around again and we can do something. Like old times, right?” she says.

“Yeah,” he replies, with a slight smile of his own. “Take care of yourself.”

Darlene heads to the door to leave, but she says a quick goodbye to Flipper before she goes. When she’s gone Elliot looks down at Flipper, who’s now standing by her bowl, ready to eat.

“Guess it’s just you and me for the rest of the week,” he says to her and gets her a can of food.

______

Elliot spends a lot of his time at Allsafe. He works through most of the day, using the distraction of it to keep away the sadness that always hangs in the back of his mind and makes his chest feel too heavy. Flipper is really the one thing that brings him back home, but there is one night where he falls asleep on the couch he dragged out from the break room and he doesn’t get to go back for her. When he does go back home the next morning he has to clean up her mess, but he doesn’t mind. It’s his own fault for not taking better care of her. He gives her an extra long walk and a bite of a sandwich he actually got to make up for it that day.

It feels like a blur, really. The way the days pass and how he works for a majority of them. One day goes by and he can’t remember what he did, just knows he did it. It’s disorienting, but he gets through it. He has everything mapped out and anything important saved or added to his growing wall of post-it notes, files, and other papers to keep everything organized. 

The loneliness only settles in his chest at night, when he isn’t working and can’t distract himself with anything. He doesn’t take morphine anymore, so the best he can do is smoke weed and let the high of it muddle his thoughts the best it can. He spends a lot of time staring at the side table Qwerty used to sit on when he’s high. He finds himself missing him, even though he was just a fish.

If the loneliness is too strong, the weed doesn’t do much. He cries anyway, but his thoughts can’t quite piece together why he’s crying. If he’s crying and he’s not high, his thoughts are too clear on why. He still feels awful for Trenton and Mobley. He feels even responsible for Gideon. He feels responsible for the suffering of so many people. The worst nights are when he thinks about Angela, though. He avoids thinking about her as much as he can, but it’s not possible to block it out entirely. There aren’t words to describe how much he misses her, how much he wishes he could bring her back. The best he can do is take down Whiterose. It’s all he has left to give her.

It’s those nights, curled up in the tight space of his apartment, where he finds himself wanting Tyrell to be there. He wishes to not feel that way, he so desperately wishes that he doesn’t want Tyrell to hold him while he sobs until he can’t breathe, but he does want it. Elliot doesn’t know how he came to this point, but he’s here. Tyrell stuck around through all the bullshit he unintentionally made him endure, stuck around even after he watched Elliot destroy his apartment from grief. He’s seen some of the worst parts of Elliot and not shied away. Him and Tyrell have some kind of connection, he can’t deny it. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.

Eventually, Elliot will into bed, or onto his couch, and fall asleep from the fatigue crying brings. If he imagines Tyrell is in the apartment, sitting close to him, maybe a hand resting on his arm or leg as he falls asleep, he’s too exhausted to remember it in the morning.

______

They’re sitting together on Elliot’s couch, watching a movie on his laptop. Elliot can’t quite place the movie. It’s familiar, but he doesn’t know what it’s called or what it’s about. He doesn’t ask Tyrell. Tyrell’s knee is pressed into his thigh, and Elliot can’t stop thinking about it. The point of contact feels hot, almost uncomfortably so. Elliot can’t focus on the movie, it’s still unclear to him. He focuses on Tyrell instead.

His hair is pushed back all nice and orderly, the way it usually is. The light from the laptop screen glints off his eyelashes in just the right way so that Elliot can see the blonde tips curl up. His expression is mostly neutral, but he looks content. He’s leaning back into the couch, like Elliot is, and his arms are crossed over his chest. Tyrell looks over to him. His eyes appear as if they’re glowing, almost emitting a blue shine, and Elliot feels like he’s being sucked in by them, just like a whirlpool.

They stare at each other for what feels like eternity. Tyrell’s knee pressing into his thigh has now become both their thighs pressed together, and Tyrell’s leaning in, arms uncrossed. One of his hands reach up and he’s holding Elliot’s jaw now, with a feather light touch. The contact of their thighs and Tyrell’s hand on his face is incredibly hot. The laptop is whitenoise in the background now.

Tyrell’s eyes never leave Elliot’s as he leans in closer, and they only close a second before his lips press against Elliot’s. Elliot is frozen in place, his mind whirring like an overheated computer. He can’t describe the feel of Tyrell’s lips. They’re like everything and nothing at once. He finally reciprocates the kiss, but it’s more like some involuntary movement than a conscious action.

Tyrell presses harder against his lips, and the next thing Elliot knows is Tyrell’s tongue in his mouth. He tastes like popcorn and iron. It’s a strange mix, but it doesn’t make Elliot pull away. None of this feels real. Tyrell is sliding onto his lap, both hands now holding his face as they kiss. The full body contact makes his skin feel nearly alight with heat.

When Tyrell pulls away he doesn’t appear to be even out of breath, despite how it felt like they kissed forever to Elliot. Tyrell’s eyes are half lidded, Elliot’s wide open. They take each other in a moment before Tyrell leans back in and presses kisses to Elliot’s jaw, one hand still on his face while the other rests on his chest. Tyrell moves the kisses down to his neck until he reaches the collar of Elliot’s shirt. Each kiss feels like an individual spark of electricity to his nerves.

Elliot lifts a hand up to grab onto Tyrell’s shoulder, his breathing hard now. He closes his eyes, and when Tyrell’s mouth leaves his neck he actually whines, but it doesn’t feel like his voice. Tyrell leans back from him, and when Elliot feels him start to shift away he cracks his eyes open. He watches Tyrell move off his lap and settle on the floor in front of him, his heart feeling like it’s going to beat so hard it’ll break through his ribcage.

Tyrell moves back into his space, placing a hand on his abdomen. He pushes Elliot’s shirt up to expose his stomach, and Elliot’s eyes fall closed again. He feels Tyrell’s lips on his skin, and he moves his way down slowly until he reaches the button of Elliot’s jeans. Elliot’s heart is slamming in his chest now, each violent pump feeling like fire is being dispersed through his entire body.

Tyrell’s hand undos the button, and then nothing happens. Elliot waits for Tyrell to continue, but he doesn’t. Elliot wants to open his eyes and look, see if something’s wrong, but he can’t. 

“Elliot,” Tyrell breathes.

He can’t respond. His mouth won’t open.

“Elliot,” Tyrell says again, this time sounding drowned out, hazey. 

He still can’t speak. His heart is beating now with a growing dread.

“ _Elliot_ ,” Tyrell says, and it sounds different. It sounds like it’s there and not there at the same time. “ _Wake up_.”

Elliot opens his eyes. He’s in bed, and Tyrell is in front of him, a hand on his shoulder. All he can do is stare up at Tyrell, unable to speak. That was a dream. It was all a dream. He dreamt that he and Tyrell kissed, and that Tyrell almost gave him a fucking blow job. Elliot wonders why these things happen to him, but he knows he’ll never get an answer.

“Elliot? Are you okay?” Tyrell has concern written all over his face.

“Uh,” Elliot tries, but has to clear his throat, and even then his voice is still hoarse. “I’m good.”

“You were making noises in your sleep. I thought you might be having a nightmare.” Tyrell’s hand leaves his shoulder, and he stands up straight.

“Why are you here?” Elliot asks. He doesn’t remember Tyrell saying he was coming by.

“I told you I was coming over,” Tyrell says, his brow furrowing. “Did you forget?”

Fuck Elliot’s memory then. He can’t remember that at all. He can’t remember anything distinct besides working for the past while.

“Sorry. I guess I did.” Elliot shifts under the covers, moving up to a sitting position. “What did you come over for again?”

“I was going to take you out for coffee. That is, if you’re still willing to do it,” Tyrell says, clearly hopeful that Elliot will agree.

“Yeah, we can. Just let me get dressed.”

He’s wearing the clothes from yesterday (or maybe before?) still, and he’s sure Tyrell notices. He doesn’t care. Life’s too exhausting to take your day clothes off sometimes. Elliot grabs a clean t-shirt and a pair of jeans, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door. He sets the clothes down on the closed lid of the toilet, and stands in front of the sink. He stares at himself in the mirror.

There’s this uncomfortable feeling stirring in his chest and his head. It’s almost restless, putting him on edge, and then he feels the panic building. His thoughts are rushing all over the place, jumping from a negative to another negative. Elliot leans forward and grips the sides of the sink. His heart is hammering inside his chest, and he swears it’s jagged and starting to carve its way out through his ribs. He screws his face up as he chokes out a sob and avoids looking at the mirror.

Elliot doubles over, trembling as the tears fall and he gasps from the onslaught of heaving sobs. He drops onto the floor, pressing himself up against the cupboards below the sink. He really would have preferred this didn’t happen when Tyrell is waiting on him, but his brain doesn’t seem to care for what’s inconvenient to him. There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and then Tyrell’s worried voice.

“Elliot? Are you alright?”

Elliot can’t stop the pitiful whimper that escapes his throat as he continues to sob. The doorknob twists, and then Tyrell is walking in, his expression even more worried than his voice was. He looks down at Elliot, who’s now crossed his arms over his knees and dropped his head down to avoid being looked at.

“Elliot,” Tyrell repeats and starts to bend down towards him, but Elliot recoils back into the cupboards even more.

“Don’t touch me,” Elliot says, and he backs off. Tyrell hovers a moment, uncertain, but steps away and sits down against the wall across from Elliot. They remain that way for a little bit, as Elliot lets out the rest of his tears and waits for the panic to pass. 

Eventually the tears stop falling, and the panic gripping his body subsides, but he keeps his head leant forward onto his arms. He’s not ready to look up yet, to address the fact Tyrell walked in on him having a panic attack. He hears Tyrell shift across from him, and tenses up, expecting to be touched, but nothing happens. Instead he hears a noise to his right and then Tyrell speaks softly.

“Here,” he says. Elliot lifts his head up enough to see Tyrell holding out a roll of toilet paper for him. He stares blankly for a moment, honestly surprised at the gesture despite how normal it is, and takes the roll. Elliot tears a few sheets off and wipes his face and nose off, sniffling.

“Thank you,” Elliot says, voice cracking from the crying.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Tyrell says. “But you’re welcome.”

Elliot looks at the floor. “I don’t know. I don’t think most people would just… stay, I guess.”

“I suppose I’m not most people then.”

“No,” Elliot says, and looks up at him. “I guess you’re not.”

They hold each other’s eyes for a moment edging on the side of too long, and there’s a shift in Elliot’s chest. Something tight feeling that isn’t panic. He breaks the eye contact, feeling uneasy. Tyrell steps up to him, offering his hand. Elliot takes it and lets Tyrell help pull him up from the floor.

“I uh, I still need to get dressed,” Elliot says. Tyrell gives him a contemplative look.

“Are you sure you still want to go out?”

Elliot isn’t sure, but they haven’t both worked on the project in a while, and truthfully, Elliot needs some extra hands with it all.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“If you’re sure then,” Tyrell says, and walks out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

Elliot dresses himself quickly, splashing some water over his face to try and freshen up from the dried tears. He takes a deep breath, holds it in a moment, and breathes out. Tyrell really does throw a wrench into every aspect of his life. Elliot thinks, a very fleeting thought, that he doesn’t fully mind the way Tyrell shakes up his life. But that dream was certainly… something. Elliot pushes that to the back of his mind. Dreams are weird, simply put.

Tyrell is sitting at the round table when Elliot steps back out of the bathroom, and he smiles warmly at him.

“Ready?”

Elliot nods, and Tyrell stands up, opening the door and walking out. Elliot follows behind, locking up his apartment and they leave together. He expects to see Sutherland parked outside, but there’s no sign of Tyrell’s car. Tyrell must read his mind somehow, because he says “The place is close by,” and places a hand on Elliot’s back and steers them to walk in the direction of the cafe. Elliot tenses briefly at the contact, not expecting it, but Tyrell’s hand doesn’t stay there long, and they walk nearly side by side until the amount of people around increases and Elliot is following right behind Tyrell instead.

The shop really is close by, because they’ve only walked for a few minutes before Tyrell steps to the side and stops at the front of the cafe. Elliot’s walked by it tons of times, but he never went in before. He considered it too expensive.

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t take me somewhere pretentious?” Elliot says. Tyrell furrows his brow.

“This isn’t pretentious,” he argues.

Elliot looks through the window at the inside of the cafe. It’s decently pretentious. Not awful, though. It probably really isn’t pretentious-looking in Tyrell’s eyes. Maybe he’d even consider it low scale. Elliot shrugs at him and opens the door. The coffee scent hits him as soon as the door opens, and he’s reminded he hasn’t been in a cafe in awhile. Tyrell comes up to his side and leans in.

“What would you like?”

Elliot’s mind blanks a moment. He really doesn’t care for anything particular. He decides on the first thing that comes to mind. “A latte, I guess.”

“What flavour?”

“Vanilla.”

“Alright,” Tyrell says. “Pick us out a table. I’ll get our coffee.”

Elliot watches Tyrell join the line at the counter, and casts a look around. They seem to have come at a slower hour, so there’s still some nice table options open. Elliot decides on one closer to the back and in the corner. He slides into the chair and waits, taking in the interior of the cafe, but mostly watching Tyrell from the table. The dream is still hanging around the back of his mind, despite his efforts to ignore it. Tyrell comes over a few minutes later, setting Elliot’s coffee cup down in front of him. Elliot looks down at it, and notices the milk in it is formed into the shape of a heart.

“Is this why it took you so long?” he asks, gesturing at the coffee art. Tyrell laughs at him.

“I didn’t ask for it. The barista was clearly into me. Too bad his efforts went to waste.”

Elliot can’t help the slight smile that gives him. “He probably recognized you and wanted to make sure you didn’t give this place a bad review.”

“Mm, perhaps,” Tyrell hums, and takes a sip of his coffee. Elliot notices it’s the same as his own. 

“Or it could be that he wrote his number on the receipt.” He slides the receipt across the table and, sure enough, there’s a phone number at the bottom.

Elliot leans back in his chair and takes a sip of his own coffee, deciding not to reply. It’s good. Way better than most of the stuff he’ll drink, if he decides to. He’s not that particular about coffee anyway. As long as it doesn’t taste bad he doesn’t care. They sit in a comfortable silence, drinking their coffee. Elliot can tell Tyrell wants to talk, though. He waits, wondering how long Tyrell will take, and prepares for all the possible things he may say or ask.

“How’s your sister?” Tyrell asks eventually.

Ah. Elliot hadn’t expected that question. 

“She’s… She’s okay.”

Tyrell gives him a critical look. “No one’s okay after they lose someone.”

Elliot sighs, frustration already sparking inside him. How’s he supposed to know exactly how she is? She hasn’t called, texted or stopped by, and she never answered a few texts he sent to her. He doesn’t understand why Tyrell is even asking. He never met her, he shouldn’t care about her.

“Why do you care?”

“You care about her. I want her to be okay so you won’t have to worry,” Tyrell explains. Elliot furrows his brow. That’s certainly an interesting response.

“Uh… thanks?” He says, unsure of what a better response to that would be. Tyrell doesn’t respond, and the previous comfortable silence shifts to an awkward one. Elliot doesn’t look at him, instead directing his gaze to either his coffee or around the cafe. Elliot only looks back at him when he clears his throat.

“I’m sorry for prying. If you wanted to talk you probably would of your own will,” Tyrell says.

“It’s okay,” Elliot says. “It’s… It’s nice, actually. To have someone care.”

Tyrell smiles at him, one of his warm ones. “It is, isn’t it?”

Elliot nods, taking another sip of his coffee. He feels a little guilty ruining the heart art, but he couldn’t leave the drink untouched. He looks over to the counter, watching the barista that served Tyrell. The guy looks over to them at the same time, and Elliot manages to hold the distant eye contact for a second before the guy looks away, a frown on his face. Elliot thinks the guy should have figured Tyrell was with someone when he ordered two coffees, but people will always think what they like to think. 

They continue to drink their coffee in a returned silence. Elliot pretends he doesn’t notice when Tyrell’s foot slides forward and rests against his own shoe. Judging by the glint in his eyes, Tyrell thinks he’s being slick. Elliot finds himself amused by it, and that’s the only reason he doesn’t pull his foot away. That is, until the memory of his dream floats back into his mind and he physically cringes over it.

“Are you okay?” Tyrell asks.

“Yeah,” Elliot says quickly. “Just a headache.”

“Do you want to go now?”

“Sure.”

Elliot downs the rest of the coffee and lets Tyrell take the empty cup with his own. Tyrell drops the cups off in a bin, and Elliot heads for the door. He stops right before walking out when he notices Tyrell isn’t behind him. He looks around a moment to see Tyrell is back at the counter, handing the barista some money and giving him a false smile. He says something to the man and then walks away, coming over to Elliot. Elliot stares at him.

“What?” Tyrell says.

“Nothing,” Elliot says and pulls on his hood, opening the door and walking out.

“I was giving him a tip. I thought that was a nice thing to do.”

Elliot shrugs his shoulders at him. “Hey, man, I said nothing.”

“But you were thinking.”

“Most people think, Tyrell.”

Tyrell sighs. “Are we heading to work now?”

Elliot nods and Tyrell pulls his phone out, no doubt sending a text to Sutherland to come by.

“He can’t take us there,” Elliot says.

“I know. He’ll drop us off somewhere close,” Tyrell explains, then gives Elliot a look. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Just making sure.” 

Tyrell hums in response. They hang by the cafe for a while before Sutherland pulls up. They get into the car and Tyrell tells Sutherland an address close to Allsafe. The ride isn’t too long, and soon enough they’re dropped off. It’ll only take a few minutes to walk the rest of the distance. Elliot gets out of the car right as it parks and hurries off. He hears the slap of Tyrell’s shoes behind him as he catches up, lingering just a step away from his side. They enter the Allsafe, and Elliot gets to work as soon as they’re up to the floor. 

Tyrell sits down at the desk adjacent to Elliot’s, staring over at him. Elliot feels his eyes, and ignores him until a minute has passed and he’s _still_ staring.

“What do you want?” Elliot asks.

“How do you feel?”

Elliot gives him a critical stare. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Tell me how you feel.”

“Man, I don’t know. I feel fine.”

Tyrell squints at him. “Elliot, be honest with me.”

Elliot can’t help the angry sigh he lets out. “Can you shut the fuck up and just work?”

Tyrell goes silent. He turns on his laptop, but Elliot remains tense. They both work in silence, the only sound being the clicking of the keyboard keys as they both type. After a short while passes, some of the tension has drained away, and regret takes its place. He leans back from his laptop, casting a nervous glance to Tyrell. He’s still working away, mouth twisted into a frown from his focusing.

“Tyrell,” Elliot starts, getting his attention. Tyrell looks up in an instant, face going soft and receptive as soon as he hears his name. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s hard talking. To talk about how I feel.”

Tyrell’s hands pull away from his laptop, settling in his lap. “I understand. Grief is… very difficult. I can’t count how many things I’ve broken in my apartment because Joanna’s gone.”

Elliot nods, staring down at the desk. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to say anything. I’m just letting you know I understand. You’re not alone, Elliot, remember that.”

“It just…” Elliot begins, shifting in his seat. His throat feels tight. “It hurts. A lot. And... I don’t know what to do.” He feels the tears build up in his eyes, and he blinks them away as best he can. He’s at his breaking point, or maybe he’s already crossed that threshold, and that’s why he finds himself so tearful while in the presence of someone. 

He’s still focusing down at the desk, body frozen stiff. He doesn’t notice that Tyrell gets up from his seat, and he flinches when the man’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder. Tyrell’s touch is light, allowing him the chance to move away if he needs. Elliot settles into the touch, though, and feels a wave of emotion crash into him. His protective walls, barely even standing at this point, can’t keep everything back. Tyrell pulls him into a side hug, the position awkward as Tyrell is standing and he’s sitting. Elliot throws an arm out and grabs the sleeve of Tyrell’s suit jacket, letting his head rest against his chest. Tears start to escape his eyes and he screws them shut, trying to keep them back to no avail. His chest is seizing with the sob he tries desperately to keep in. Tyrell’s hand rubs gently against Elliot’s arm, soothing as best as he can. 

They remain that way for several minutes, Elliot finally shedding some of the sadness he’s kept carefully contained inside himself, and Tyrell taking it with no complaint. It’s only when Elliot’s breathing has evened out, and he’s no longer hunched over from the sobs, that Tyrell breaks the hug. Elliot shivers as Tyrell’s arm slides across the back of his shoulder while he moves away. With the cuff of his hoodie, Elliot wipes the few tears left on his face away. He sniffles loudly, and a moment later Tyrell is back by his side with a tissue. Elliot can’t quite use his voice yet, so he only offers a half nod as thanks. He cleans up the rest of his face, Tyrell standing with a hand on the back of the desk chair. 

“We still have more work to do,” Elliot says after a moment, voice croaky. Tyrell nods, a look that says he doesn’t quite agree, but if that’s what he really thinks he doesn’t voice it.

“Would it be alright if I came home with you after?”

Elliot looks up at him, lips parted. “Yeah,” he breathes. “You can.” Tyrell’s lips quirk into a small smile. He squeezes Elliot’s shoulder before settling back down into his seat, scooting up close and beginning to type again. Elliot looks at him with a slight smile of his own. 

They work for a while longer, until the sun is casting warm, orange rays across the floor. Elliot pins a couple more things up on the glass doors, and Tyrell adds on a couple sticky notes of drawn arrows pointing things to one another. They step back, observing their work. They’d made considerable progress today, despite the impromptu flood of emotions that came over Elliot. Elliot looks over at Tyrell, feeling his chest tighten in that way only he’s able to cause. Tyrel means something to him. He hopes that whatever happens in the future, Tyrell will still be in his life.

Tyrell looks at him then, eyes bright with accomplishment, and that one thing Elliot can never quite place. The rays from the sun filtering in land just right on him. His hair is framed by a warm glow, and Elliot thinks absently that it reminds him of a halo. Tyrell gives him a curious look.

“What is it?” Tyrell asks.

“Nothing,” Elliot says, blinking and looking back at the glass doors. “Just glad we got a lot done.”

Tyrell pats his back, his hand sliding down to the small of Elliot’s back and resting there. “I do believe we make a good team, Elliot.”

“Yeah, I guess we do.” 

Elliot stands there a couple more seconds, letting Tyrell’s hand stay on his back. Then he turns around and walks away, going over to his desk and closing his laptop, sliding it into his backpack. He waits for Tyrell, still standing and admiring their work.

“Tyrell. You ready?” 

Tyrell looks back to him. “Yes, yes. I’ll have Sutherland pick us up.”

Elliot offers him a small appreciative smile. Tyrell comes over to pick up his own laptop, and they leave Allsafe and make their way out to wait for Sutherland. The car pulls up in just a few minutes, and Tyrell rushes forward to open the door for Elliot. Elliot settles into the seat, pushing his backpack down onto the floor. Tyrell slides in just a moment later, and scoots himself into the middle seat, right next to Elliot. Elliot gives him a questioning look, but then Tyrell hands him an earbud.

“Do you want to listen?” Tyrell offers.

“Uh, sure,” Elliot says and puts the earbud in. He doesn’t recognize the song that starts to play, and he can’t tell what the words are either. It takes him a moment to realize the song isn’t in English. “What language is this?”

The corner of Tyrell’s mouth quirks up into a smirk. “It’s Swedish. I hope you don’t mind it.”

“Nah, it’s cool. It sounds nice.”

Tyrell hums in agreement. Elliot looks out the window, trying to focus on the song and pick out any words. He really can’t, though. He’s never heard Swedish before, not even in all the time he’s been around Tyrell. He makes a note in the back of his mind to ask Tyrell to tell him a few words sometime.

The sun has just fallen behind the skyline of the city when they get back to Elliot’s apartment. Tyrell stays in the car for just a minute longer while Elliot heads into the building, no doubt telling Sutherland he’s staying for a while. When Elliot gets up to his apartment he can hear Flipper yipping on the other side. She rushes out the door as soon as it’s opened enough for her to, and she starts jumping all around Elliot’s legs. 

“Hey, Flipper,” Elliot says to her, crouching down to pick her up. She squirms around in his arms, stretching her head up to lick at his face. She manages a couple sloppy licks to his jaw before Elliot adjusts her so she can’t reach him. He keeps her held in his arms until Tyrell enters the apartment. Then she wriggles so much he can’t stop her from jumping away and running over to Tyrell, sniffing at his shoes.

“Sorry, she always does that,” Elliot apologizes. Tyrell laughs at him.

“It’s fine, Elliot,” he says, leaning down to rub her head. “I like her.”

“I have to take her for a walk. I won’t be that long, so just make yourself comfortable, I guess.”

Tyrell nods his head and walks over to the couch, sliding his suit jacket off and laying it on the back piece before sitting down. Elliot grabs Flipper’s lead and whistles her over, hooking it onto her collar and heading back out. He makes the walk as brief as he can, not wanting Tyrell to sit alone all bored, but Flipper decides it’s one of the days where she needs to take her time and sniff everything. When she stops by her fifth trash can in a row on the walk Elliot groans and stops walking.

“Dude, come on. Trash is trash,” he complains to her. She turns her head to look at him, somehow looking teary-eyed and pleading. He sighs in defeat. “Fine, just another minute.”

Elliot walks her the extra minute he promises, and then leads her back to the apartment. When he gets back inside he sees Tyrell is sitting at his desk, reading a book Elliot probably hasn’t touched in years. Tyrell looks up when he comes in, closing the book and setting it down in an instant. Elliot takes Flipper off her leash and stands in the middle of the room, feeling a touch nervous.

“She really wanted a long walk,” Elliot explains.

“It’s okay,” Tyrell assures him. “Really. You have to take care of your dog, I understand.”

Elliot nods and looks down at his feet, then glances around his own apartment, somehow feeling out of place in his own home. “So… Do you want to watch a movie?” he asks, scrambling to come up with anything the two of them can do.

“I’d love to,” Tyrell agrees, sounding more genuine than Elliot would have expected.

Elliot walks over to his backpack then, unzipping it and pulling out his laptop. He places it down on the small table in front of the couch, turning it on and then taking a seat. “Have you ever seen Back To The Future?”

“No, I don’t think I have,” Tyrell says, walking over to the couch and sitting down next to him. 

“Well, we’re gonna watch it. It’s my favourite movie series.”

“Okay.” Tyrell settles back into the couch. “You know, my favourite movie is Titanic.”

Elliot actually freezes in the middle of pulling up the movie to look over at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes, I’m serious. Don’t judge me for it, it’s a wonderful movie,” Tyrell says defensively. “Though, Joanna never liked it.”

“Nah, man, I’m not judging you. Just surprised. I guess I pegged you as an American Psycho type of person.”

“I hate that movie, actually,” Tyrell says with a strangely bitter tone to his voice that amuses Elliot.

“Yeah, I don’t care much for it either,” Elliot agrees, and goes back to pulling up the movie. “I’m gonna make popcorn,” he adds once the movie has started. 

He hops up from the couch, grabbing a packet of popcorn from the cupboard while the beginning of the movie starts. Elliot leans back against the counter while he waits for it to pop, watching Tyrell’s expression. It’s neutral for now, but he looks content. Then Elliot is remembering his dream from last night, and he hates the way his skin warms at the memory of it, and the slight rush of anxiety that flows through his body.

_Fuck. This wasn’t a good idea._

There’s nothing he can really do about the situation now, though, so he steels himself and pushes the dream away from his mind the best that he can. He crosses his arms tightly, feeling his heart beat harder. The microwave dings and Elliot whirls around to grab the bag of popcorn, pulling out a bowl and emptying the contents into it.

Elliot sits back down, albeit with some hesitation, next to Tyrell, offering him the bowl. Tyrell says a quick thank you, and grabs a few pieces. The movie has only played for a few minutes when Tyrell speaks.

“I have a feeling a lot of this is going to be very… cheesy,” he says.

“Hey, it’s just started. Give it a chance. A lot of 80’s movies are like that.”

“Mm, alright. I’ll trust you on that,” Tyrell says, and they fall back to silence.

The movie goes on, they share the popcorn bowl, and Elliot notices Tyrell seems to enjoy the movie more and more as it plays. He’s glad Tyrell likes it. Elliot leans his head back, resting on the back of the couch, the anxiety now having ebbed away.. He lets his eyes fall shut, a small sense of content washing over him. It’s the calmest he thinks he’s felt in a long time.

“Elliot?”

Well. So much for the silent peace.

“What?” Elliot answers, keeping his eyes shut.

“I didn’t know if you were asleep.”

“Dude, I’ve seen this movie so many times. I don’t need to be awake for it.”

“I thought we were watching the movie together,” Tyrell says, sounding the tiniest bit sad.

“Man, fuck you,” Elliot says with no malice.

“You don’t mean that. I can see you smiling.”

Elliot finally breaks his position, turning his head and looking at Tyrell. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

Tyrell narrows his eyes at him, but he’s smiling as he does it. He doesn’t respond to Elliot and turns his attention back to the movie. Elliot rolls his eyes as he leans his head back again, closing them and waiting for that content feeling to return. Tyrell doesn’t bother him after that, and as the minutes go by exhaustion sneaks its way into his muscles. He hasn’t had restful sleep in a while, and he doesn’t fight his body when his mind starts to drift and sleep takes him. He’s only distantly aware of Tyrell’s knee resting against his as he falls asleep.

______

Elliot wakes up to something shoving his shoulder and an angry voice calling his name. He startles at the suddenness of it, blinking away his blurry vision as his eyes focus in on what woke him up. Or, _who_ , really. Darlene is standing a few feet away, looking pissed. Elliot would groan, but he knows that would piss her off more. He’s about to ask her what her problem is when he realizes his surroundings.

Currently, he’s laying on top of Tyrell. Elliot’s chest is pressed into his stomach, and he’s holding onto his sides. Tyrell’s legs bracket his waist. It’s an extremely compromising position that Elliot isn’t sure how he ended up in. He realizes, also, that Tyrell has woken up. Tyrell rubs at his face, muttering Elliot’s name, but then he notices Darlene in the room and his eyes widen slightly.

“Elliot. We should talk,” Darlene says, sounding seconds away from cussing him out. She gives Tyrell a judgemental glance, but otherwise doesn’t comment on what she’s seeing. 

Elliot pushes himself up, feeling his heart beat faster with embarrassment as his hands press into Tyrell’s abdomen. Elliot gets into a sitting position and falls back rather clumsily as he moves away and stumbles to his feet. Tyrell gets up from the couch as well, looking Darlene up and down.

“I suppose you’re Darlene?” Tyrell asks in a friendly voice, and Elliot wishes he could telepathically tell him to shut the fuck up.

“Yeah,” she replies, that judgemental glare still in her eyes.

Tyrell smiles at her, oblivious or willfully ignorant to her disinterest, Elliot isn’t sure, and he reaches his hand out. “Nice to meet you. I’m--”

“Tyrell Wellick. I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are.”

Tyrell’s smile falters and he drops his hand, glancing over to Elliot. “Well, I’ll see myself out. I don’t want to come between family business.” Tyrell grabs his suit jacket from the couch and slips it on, starting towards the door to leave. Elliot interrupts him.

“Wait,” he says, and goes over to his closet. Elliot grabs the suit jacket Tyrell had left on accident from a while back and hands it back to him. “Almost forgot it again…”

Tyrell looks down at it, then back up at Elliot. Elliot stares down at the floor, wishing he’d just take it already and go. An excruciatingly long moment passes before Tyrell reaches out and takes the jacket from him.

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Elliot nods, eyes still glued to the floor. Tyrell leaves then, and when the door is shut behind him Darlene doesn’t even wait a fraction of a second to talk.

“What the fuck was that?” she says.

“Darlene, we were just--”

“Are you fucking him or something?” she blurts.

Elliot whips his head up to give her an incredulous look. “No. It’s not like that.”

“Well, it certainly looks pretty fucking weird,” she scoffs at him. “What are you even doing with him?”

“We’re… friends, I guess,” he tries to explain, but friends doesn’t feel like the right word to explain what he and Tyrell are. He’s not sure what else he could use, though. They’re not just work partners, it’s deeper than that. And besides, he can’t call them partners because he can’t let her know about their project.

“Okay, well, I don’t think I want to get into your life bullshit right yet. I came by because I wanted to go out and eat with you. And no, you do not get to say no to me.”

Elliot can only raise his eyebrows and nod. “Okay.”

“Wow,” she says, looking surprised. “Expected you to argue. Maybe you being with Tyrell’s a good thing. If you two fucking makes you this agreeable it’s fine with me.”

“Jesus christ, we’re not fucking,” Elliot stresses. “Why do you keep saying that?”

Darlene walks closer to him, rolling her eyes before putting her sunglasses on. “Okay, I’ll let you in on a little secret: when I was talking with the FBI they played me that phone call you got in prison. You know, the one where Tyrell talked to you?”

Elliot nods hesitantly.

“Yeah, well. What he was saying about you two becoming gods or whatever didn’t sound very innocent to me.”

With that she makes her way to the door and waits out in the hallway, leaning against the wall and pulling out her phone. Elliot reels for a moment, wondering what the hell just happened. He shakes himself mentally, and grabs the bowl of empty popcorn from last night to set it in the sink. He opens Flipper up a can of food and sets it on the floor for her. Then he grabs his keys and wallet and locks up the apartment. Darlene doesn’t even look up as she heads for the stairs.

Darlene takes them to a Thai place just a block down from Elliot’s apartment. They usually get to-go orders from there, but it seems Darlene is in an outgoing mood today. Once they step inside the establishment she takes a seat by the window and leans back. Elliot sits down across from her. They sit there in silence for a couple minutes.

“How are you?” Darlene eventually asks.

“I don’t know,” Elliot shrugs. “Okay, I guess.”

“I won’t get too emotional here, I promise, but… I miss her. A lot.”

Elliot keeps his eyes down, staring at the wood countertop. “Yeah. I do too.”

A waiter comes by at that moment, and Darlene tells him both their orders and drinks. The waiter looks a tad taken aback, but Darlene just smiles at the man. The waiter tells them he’ll have their orders out in a bit and leaves. Darlene takes a deep breath, and Elliot instinctively curls in on himself, knowing already what’s about to come.

“I know I said I didn’t want to get into your personal life, but I lied. What’s going on between you and Tyrell?”

“I told you already, we’re friends,” Elliot sighs. He wishes he was anywhere but here.

“Do you usually go to sleep cuddling your friends?”

Elliot can’t even respond to that. He hunches down and stares daggers into the table.

“Alright, fine. I get it. You’re friends. How did that happen?”

“I don’t know. He just sort of… forced himself into my life. I don’t mind, really. I probably should, but I don’t.”

“Mm, yeah. Probably. He is the CTO of Ecorp after all,” she points out.

“He’s not on their side, I can promise you that.”

Darlene nods and leans forward, crossing her arms on the table. “Do you care about him?”

Elliot furrows his brow, looking up at her. “What?”

“Do you care about him?” she repeats.

“I…” he starts, unsure. 

That is the question, isn’t it? He knows the answer easily. Saying it to someone else is what catches him, though. Because he should not care for Tyrell at all, yet he does. Tyrell’s hurt people, even killed them. He’s shot Elliot in the stomach, but here Elliot is, letting Tyrell into his life like a normal person. Elliot doesn’t know at what point in his life he changed in such a way that he lets someone like Tyrell be close to him. It’s like Tyrell always insists to him, they have a connection, for whatever reason.

“I do. I care about him,” he answers, and then Darlene throws him a curveball.

“Do you love him?”

Elliot’s mouth falls open in surprise. He hates the way he hesitates before he answers.

“No.”

“Alright.” Darlene leans back again. “Just making sure my big brother isn’t being a dumbass.”

Elliot goes back to looking at the table, and they enter another silence. The waiter comes by not too long after with their drinks, and shortly after that their food. They don’t talk for the most part, but Darlene does tell Elliot she’s been staying at Angela’s apartment. Elliot decides not to comment on that. She seems okay enough. When they finish eating Darlene walks him back to his apartment, and they stop at the steps leading up into the building. Darlene pulls him into a hug.

“Thanks for going out with me,” she says into his shoulder.

“No problem,” he replies.

She pulls away then, giving him a small smile. “Hey, let Tyrell know if he fucks you over I’ll beat his ass to death, okay?”

“I’ll let him know.”

“Good,” Darlene says and turns away, not offering a single goodbye as she walks down the street.

Elliot stares after her for a moment, thinking back to the one question she’d asked. He doesn’t have a clue why she would ask something like that, but he guesses that it’s just her being protective of him. He doesn’t love Tyrell, and there’s nothing more to it. Elliot’s not sure he could even imagine himself with someone like Tyrell, either. As he’s heading back up to his apartment his phone rings in his pocket. He stops in the middle of the stairwell to look at it, and sees it’s Tyrell. Elliot wonders if the man has some sensor for when he’s alone.

“Hello?” Elliot answers, and continues walking up the steps.

“I know I said I’d see you soon, but I felt I owe an apology for this morning. I think my presence upset your sister.”

Elliot raises his eyebrows to himself. Tyrell’s always straight to the point.

“I don’t think that’s gonna change. She said she’ll beat your ass to death if you fuck me over,” Elliot says.

“Oh, really?” Tyrell laughs. “I hate to have made such an awful impression.”

“She’ll get over it.”

Tyrell hums on the other end of the call, and falls silent. Elliot waits for him to speak, unlocking his door in the meantime and nudging Flipper back with his foot when she tries to run out. Tyrell still hasn’t spoken up.

“You still there?” Elliot asks.

“Yes, yes, sorry,” Tyrell says quickly. “I’ve been a bit in my thoughts lately. I may be spending too much time with you.”

Elliot’s not sure what to say to that, but Tyrell continues before he can fumble out a response.

“You really don’t know what you do to me, Elliot, do you?” Tyrell says, voice low, and Elliot’s not sure how that makes him feel.

“Uh...”

“Oh, I have to get going, actually. I have some ridiculous meeting I have to attend,” Tyrell says, changing the subject in a flash. “I’d much rather be with you right now, but unfortunately we all have our responsibilities.”

“Yeah, we do,” Elliot agrees, wondering what the hell goes on inside Tyrell’s head.

“Goodbye, Elliot.”

“Bye.” Elliot pulls the phone away from his ear, looking down at the screen. _What the fuck was that?_

Elliot thinks Tyrell is probably the strangest person in his life, and that’s saying a lot with all the sorts of people he’s met. But, everyone he’s met fits into their own little category, in some way.. The way they come off in first meetings is close to who they are as a person. Tyrell, though? He’s like a chameleon. Always changing, always adapting to the situation. He’s reserved and articulate in his work, never a speck out of place in his perfectly crafted businessman persona. Yet, as Elliot has learned, that’s not who he really is. He’s emotional, impulsive, and quite affectionate. He’s always showing a new side of himself just as Elliot has started to wrap his head around him. Elliot wonders if he’ll ever figure the man out.

A small voice in the back of his head tells him he may not have the time to ever find out the truth of who Tyrell Wellick is.

______

Elliot’s been laying in bed for a while now. Or maybe it’s only been a few minutes? He never has a grasp on time if he doesn’t have a clock shoved in his face, or someone nearby to tell him. He has his earbuds in, a playlist of songs Darlene made for him playing on his phone. He stares up at the ceiling, the music a background noise to his thoughts. 

He’s thinking about Whiterose and Dark Army, thinking about what his old Allsafe co-workers are up to now, thinking about Ange--

No. He’s not thinking about that, not while there’s nothing around to keep him distracted. It’ll bring that crushing ache back into his chest.

He thinks about Krista, about Mohammed, about Carla. He hopes they’re all okay, that they haven’t suffered too much in the wake of five/nine, and their lives are improving as each day goes by and the world starts to run its gears again.

He thinks about Tyrell. When does he not anymore? His thoughts and dreams always seem to be occupied by him. What he doesn’t let himself think about is why Tyrell fills his brain up so often. But there it is again. That desire to have Tyrell around. It’s been there since the night Tyrell stayed over, and it doesn’t go away unless Elliot has something to focus on. It’s incredibly annoying, but he can’t make himself stop. 

Elliot lets out a frustrated sigh and grabs his phone from where it rests on his chest, opening up his messages. He stares at the text bar, willing himself to turn his phone back off and not do what that one part of his mind is encouraging him to do. 

He sets his phone back down.

He grabs it again.

>   
>  Elliot:  
>  can you come over
> 
> Tyrell:  
>  Of course. Give me a little time and I’ll be over.  
> 

Elliot stares at the message, considering typing out a reply. He decides against it, and sets his phone back down. He can feel his anxious regret creeping up on him, and he sits up in his bed.

“Flipper, come here,” he calls to her. Her ears perk up and then she’s leaping off the couch, bouncing up onto the bed and into Elliot’s lap. He pulls her up to his chest and holds her, scratching her neck and ears. She squirms around in his arms, licking at his face.

“Do you want a treat?” he asks her, and she only wriggles around even more. He can’t help but laugh at her excitement. “Okay, come on.”

He slides his phone into his back pocket, music still playing in his ears, and goes over to his cupboard. He pulls out the little ceramic jar he got to put Flipper’s treats in and takes one out. He turns around to see Flipper standing at his feet, her tail a blur as it wags back and forth.

“Sit,” he commands, and she just cocks her head at him. “Sit.”

She continues to stare up at him, her tail wagging starting to slow.

“Come on, man.” He points his finger down and repeats the command one more time. This time she listens and sits down. “Good girl.”

He squats down to give her her treat, and she jumps back to her paws in an instant to snatch it from his hand. He gives her head a little rub and stands back up, walking over to his dresser. He pulls the top drawer open and reaches his hand into the back, pulling out a small container. When he turns around he sees Flipper standing at the kitchen counter, staring at him.

“You’re not getting anymore treats,” he scolds, and moves to sit down on his bed, crossing his legs. She whines for him to come back over.

“No.”

She yaps at him, but runs over anyway and hops onto the bed again, walking a little circle next to his knee and laying down. Elliot shakes his head at her. He twists the cap of the container off and rests it in his lap, leaning back towards his dresser to grab a packet. He pulls out a rolling paper and takes the container, packing the paper and sealing it. Elliot fishes his lighter out of his pocket, lighting the blunt and taking a drag. Flipper lifts her head up, nose twitching as the smoke starts to float around the room.

“No, way. You’re not getting any of this,” he says to her. She blinks at him and then lays her head back down, nuzzling into the comforter.

Elliot puts the container lid back on and sets it and the packet up on the top of his dresser. He lays back down on his bed, taking another drag and watching the smoke drift up to the ceiling. He waits for the high to kick in, taking his time. It’s not too long until he’s interrupted by a knock on his door. 

Flipper starts to bark at the sound, but Elliot shushes her. He pulls his earbuds out, then stands up and walks over to the door, peering through the peephole to see Tyrell on the other side. He shuffles back to unlock the door, pulling it open for Tyrell to walk through. _How does he always get here so fast?_

“I came as quick as I could. Is everything okay?” Tyrell asks as soon as he’s inside.

“Yeah, nothing’s wrong,” Elliot replies, taking another drag. Tyrell narrows his eyes at him. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re bothered by weed.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” Tyrell shakes his head. Despite the assurance, he seems vaguely uncomfortable. 

Elliot considers him a moment before walking back over to his bed and laying down. Flipper’s jumped off by now, having gone over to the couch to watch Tyrell from a distance. Tyrell is standing in the middle of his apartment, looking lost. Elliot sighs.

“You just gonna stand there?” he asks.

“Well, I’m not sure what you’d like me to do.”

“Do whatever you want, man. I asked you over ‘cause I didn’t feel like getting high alone.”

“Is that all I am to you? Someone to keep you company when you’re feeling bored?” Tyrell says suddenly, his accent coming through with the sudden sadness straining his voice.

Elliot furrows his brow and braces himself up on his arms, giving Tyrell a serious look. “Dude. Are you good?”

Tyrell drops his head, obscuring his face from Elliot’s view, but it’s clear he’s started to cry from the way his shoulders tremble and the strangled sound he makes. Elliot remains on his bed, staring dumbly at Tyrell. He doesn’t know what to do, or what he said to make the man start crying. 

Quickly setting the blunt to the side in an ashtray on his dresser, Elliot gets up to his feet, taking cautious steps over to Tyrell. His head is still hung low, and up close Elliot can hear his uneven breaths as he tries to keep himself under control.

“I’m…” Elliot starts, licking his lips and glancing around. “I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”

Tyrell sniffles then, reaching a hand up to his face and wiping at his eyes. Elliot can feel the distant sensation of anxiety, but the high has started to kick in and his head is too foggy to process the feeling. 

“No, I’m sorry, Elliot. You didn’t say anything wrong. I’ve been having a hard time, that’s all.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Elliot asks.

“I’ll be fine. But thank you, it means a lot,” Tyrell says, sniffling again. “I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

Elliot shakes his head, and mutters, “No, it’s cool. I’m not really that high, anyway.”

Tyrell finally looks up, eyes slightly red from the tears. “You know, I’ve never smoked before.”

“Really?” Elliot says, raising an eyebrow. “Were you a goody two shoes growing up?”

That gets Tyrell to laugh, and Elliot feels himself relax a bit at the sound. “Yes, I was.”

They look at each other for a moment, until Elliot feels it’s been an uncomfortably long stare. He looks away, and walks back to his bed, picking the blunt back up as he lays down again. It had burned out after he set it down, so he grabs his lighter and relights it, taking a short drag.

Tyrell comes over, sliding his suit jacket off and laying it down at the end of Elliot’s bed in a neat fold. He sits down on the other side of the bed, laying down carefully next to Elliot and resting his hands on his stomach. Elliot looks at him from the corner of his eye, simply taking in his side profile.

“Here,” Elliot says, offering the blunt to him. Tyrell gives it a nervous look, and Elliot rolls his eyes. “It’s not gonna kill you.”

Tyrell glances at Elliot before taking the blunt, bringing it up to his mouth and inhaling the smoke. He ends up taking too large of a hit and starts to cough, leaning up and hacking away from Elliot. Elliot grabs the blunt gingerly from Tyrell so he doesn’t drop it, grinning at Tyrell’s expense. The smile stays on his lips, the high fully in effect now and making it hard to not feel amused at the sight of Tyrell choking on smoke.

Eventually Tyrell settles back down, wiping a stray tear from his eye. Elliot is smirking at him.

“Take a smaller hit, and hold it in,” Elliot explains, handing the blunt back over. Tyrell blinks away the tears in his eyes, clearing his throat. The drag he takes this time is much shorter. “Okay, now keep your mouth closed, and try to inhale.”

Tyrell does as Elliot instructs him to, and after holding the smoke in for a good moment, he exhales, some of it blowing out through his nose.

“There you go,” Elliot says.

“My throat burns,” Tyrell says, peering down at the blunt.

“Yeah, that’ll happen,” Elliot laughs. “Keep smoking it, and do the holding thing.”

Tyrell nods, takes another drag, holds it in as long as he can, and blows it back out. Repeats. Elliot watches the smoke leave his mouth, and finds his eyes stay stuck on Tyrell’s mouth. He swallows when Tyrell’s tongue darts out to lick at his lips.

“Why does it taste sweet?” Tyrell asks.

“That’s the paper. They’re flavoured cigar papers,” Elliot explains. “I like how they taste.”

Tyrell takes one last drag before handing the blunt back to Elliot, coughing just a bit as he exhales the smoke. Elliot’s fingers brush Tyrell’s while he takes it back, and his fingers twitch, nearly dropping it. 

“You’re trembling,” Tyrell says.

“I know. It happens,” Elliot replies, bringing the blunt to his lips and taking a long drag. He draws the smoke to the back of his throat, holding it until his chest starts to ache, and he opens his mouth. Instead of letting the smoke rush out in one quick exhale, he lets it drift up slowly from his open mouth. He watches the way it curls and twists up, glancing over to Tyrell. Tyrell’s eyes are transfixed on his face, looking him up and down. Elliot exhales the rest of the smoke.

“You’re beautiful,” Tyrell blurts.

Elliot blinks. “What?”

“I said you’re beautiful.”

“Uh, thanks. I guess,” Elliot says, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and looking at everything that isn’t Tyrell.. His heart is pounding. Because of the weed, or because of being called beautiful, he isn’t sure. His throat feels dry, and his head is spinning. Everything feels too hot now.

“Elliot,” Tyrell starts, but he doesn’t get to finish.

Elliot leans up suddenly, dropping the almost done blunt in the ashtray before rolling onto his side. He braces himself up on his elbow, and stretches his other arm over Tyrell, his hand finding itself planted next to the other man’s side. His face is only inches away from Tyrell’s, and at this angle Elliot can see the red that’s crept into his eyes, and the glossy sheen from the start of his high. His eyes are wide, and his lips are parted.

Elliot’s eyelids flutter, his head foggy. Part of him is telling him not to do this, the other part is screaming at him to take advantage of the opportunity in front of him. Elliot falters, starting to pull his head back, but Tyrell speaks again.

“ _Elliot_ ,” he whines, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. 

_Fuck it._

Elliot leans back down, crashing his lips against Tyrell’s. It’s not perfect. He’s a little off on his landing, moving in too quick, but Tyrell’s hand comes up to rest on the side of his face, adjusting the position of their mouths so the kiss is nicer. Tyrell’s lips are soft, and despite the faint feeling of stubble on his chin, it’s not as weird as Elliot had expected it to be. 

Elliot keeps their lips together for as long as he can, until the need for air has him pulling away. He breathes hard, eyes closed, because he’s not sure he can look at Tyrell right now.

“Hey, look at me,” Tyrell whispers, hand still on his face, his thumb caressing his cheek. Elliot slowly opens his eyes, staring down at Tyrell’s chest before looking at him. “Breathe.”

Elliot nods his head absently, swallowing and taking in a breath, exhaling it slowly. Tyrell’s hand hasn’t left his face. Elliot draws in a few more breaths before going back in for another kiss, this time slower and much more gentle. Elliot can feel the arm he’s bracing himself on begin to ache, and so he lifts his body up, keeping his mouth on Tyrell’s, and slides one leg across Tyrell’s waist to settle on top of him.

Tyrell’s other hand is fisted up in the material of Elliot’s sleeve, holding onto him as if he may disappear at any moment. Elliot runs his hands up Tyrell’s chest, curling his fingers into the fabric. Elliot parts his lips, running his tongue across Tyrell’s bottom lip. A soft sigh escapes Tyrell, giving Elliot the chance to slip his tongue into his mouth. Beneath him Tyrell’s body shudders, pushing up against Elliot. Tyrell pulls away then, breathing hard. He stares up at Elliot, and now it’s obvious he’s high as fuck. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” Elliot says. “We’re both high.”

“Elliot, don’t,” Tyrell breathes, closing his eyes a moment. “I want this. I promise you I want this.”

“Okay,” Elliot says. 

Elliot leans his head back down, pressing a soft kiss to Tyrell’s lips. He moves to his jaw, planting a few light kisses there, before Tyrell throws his head back, exposing his neck and clearly inviting Elliot’s mouth. Elliot looks up to him with hooded eyes. He reaches a shaky hand to Tyrell’s tie, tugging it loose and undoing the top button of his shirt collar. 

With some hesitation, Elliot presses his lips to Tyrell’s neck, peppering a trail of kisses from the spot right below his jaw to the hollow of his neck. One of Tyrell’s hands slides up into his hair, his fingers a gentle and calming pressure. Elliot kisses his way back up Tyrell’s neck before his lips find Tyrell’s once again.

Their tongues meet, and then Elliot’s moaning into his mouth, Tyrell’s fingers curling tighter into his hair. Elliot can feel himself shaking, feel the way Tyrell’s heart is beating where his hand rests on his chest, and the high making his body feel hotter than he thinks should be possible. They continue to kiss, familiarizing themselves with each other.

Then Tyrell is pushing at Elliot’s chest, nudging him away. Elliot leans up, looking at Tyrell with concerned eyes, worried that he’s done something wrong.

“Take your hoodie off,” Tyrell says.

Elliot leans back into a sitting position, one hand pressed onto Tyrell’s stomach to keep himself balanced as his head rushes from the movement. He lifts his other hand to the zipper of his hoodie, dragging it down and then shrugging the hoodie off his shoulders to the floor. Tyrell looks him up and down, chest heaving. One hand settles onto Elliot’s thigh, and the other reaches to the hem of his shirt, fingers running up under the material and against his stomach. Elliot sucks in a breath, shivering at the contact.

Tyrell lets his hand rest there, allowing Elliot the chance to relax into the sensation. Then Tyrell’s hand is sliding back down, his fingers finding the button on Elliot’s jeans. Elliot feels his heart begin to hammer in his chest, panic building up inside him as he breathes hard. He grabs Tyrell’s hand to stop him.

“I can’t,” Elliot gasps. “I can’t do this.”

He can feel his limbs start to tremble, his grip on Tyrell’s hand loosening from the way he shakes. His eyes are focused down at one of the buttons of Tyrell’s shirt, unable to look at him. Tyrell shifts under him, pulling himself up to a sitting position, Elliot still sat across his waist.

“Hey,” Tyrell says, tone soft as he grabs either side of Elliot’s face carefully. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Elliot scrunches his eyes shut, breathing out harshly through his nose. He can’t quite speak.

“You’re right. We’re both high. We can stop,” Tyrell assures him, running his thumb across his cheek. “I want you to feel comfortable. Don’t do anything you’re not ready for.”

Elliot opens his eyes then, looking into Tyrell’s. There isn’t a hint of a lie in them. He’s entirely serious. Tyrell values his comfort, and Elliot thinks he may just disintegrate on the spot. He’s not used to this, to someone caring about him so much to the point they’ll refrain from indulging their own desires for his own comfort. He still can’t speak. Words aren’t what fits this moment.

Elliot reaches his arms out, wrapping them around Tyrell and pulling their bodies completely together. He presses his face into Tyrell’s neck, breathing in the smell of his expensive cologne. Tyrell’s arms come to rest on his back, one arm sliding up so his hand is cradling the back of Elliot’s head. They sit there like that, entwined together on Elliot’s bed. It’s one of the few times Elliot thinks he’s ever felt truly safe. He wants to feel like this every day of his life.

When they pull away from the hug Tyrell nudges Elliot to the side with his hands. “Lay down,” he says. 

Elliot listens to him, sliding off his lap and laying down on his side. Tyrell loosens his tie all the way, pulling it off his neck and tossing it down to the foot of the bed. He takes his shoes off then, and that’s when Elliot realizes he still has his own on. He sits back up, untying the laces and tossing them to the floor, uncaring compared to the way Tyrell lays his own down carefully next to the bed. They settle back down into the mattress, pulling the covers over their bodies. They face each other, noses barely an inch apart. Elliot takes Tyrell’s face in, obscured with the dim lighting of his apartment, but still visible. A smile tugs at his lips, quickly turning into a grin.

“What is it?” Tyrell asks, serious in tone even though he’s starting to smile as well.

“Nothing. Your eyes are just really red, it’s funny.”

“Yours, too. You kind of look like ah… like a bee stung your eyelids.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Elliot laughs, pushing at Tyrell’s chest. Tyrell laughs in turn, eyes crinkling up.

They fall into an easy silence, still looking at each other, fond smiles on their faces. Elliot adjusts his head where it lays on his pillow, leaning down to press his forehead against Tyrell’s chest. Tyrell’s hand comes to rest on Elliot’s waist, his thumb rubbing into his skin. Elliot feels exhaustion and a high-induced haze take over his body, slowing his mind down.

“I’m tired,” Elliot murmurs against him.

“Then sleep,” Tyrell replies, his nose now pressed down into his hair. 

Elliot’s consciousness starts to drift more and more, and the last thing he feels as he falls asleep is the careful, almost hesitant way Tyrell kisses the top of his head.

______

It’s a clear day, something you could call unusual in New York. It’s still chilly, though. That part never changes. Elliot and Tyrell are at Coney Island, and they’ve just walked into the place. It’s a little odd to Elliot, being here without the intention of going to the arcade, but it’s nice. Everything feels a little nicer with Tyrell.

“What do you want to do first?” Tyrell turns to him and asks.

“I don’t know,” Elliot shrugs. “Whatever you want. You wanted to come here.”

“Yes, but you agreed as well,” he points out. “But, if you really don’t care, then let’s just walk for a bit.”

Elliot nods and starts to walk ahead of Tyrell, heading down the boardwalk. They stroll along together, passing by various entertainment booths. There’s one they pass that gets Tyrell to slow down just a fraction, peering at the booth for a moment before going back to walking next to Elliot. Elliot doesn’t comment on it, but keeps the booth in mind while they continue their walk.

There’s not a ton of people out, what with the colder weather having come in and deterring the mass of tourists that come during the summer for the beach. Elliot likes it this way. He likes New York in these quieter months, where there’s less people around trying to get their fix of the big city life America offers.

Eventually they come close to the Wonder Wheel, and Elliot leads them off to it. They’ve just approached the ride when Elliot turns to Tyrell.

“You’re not scared of heights, are you?” he asks.

“No, I’m not,” Tyrell laughs.

“Good.”

They wait for just a bit before they get their chance to board the passenger car. Elliot expects Tyrell to sit across from him, but he ends up sitting down right next to him, even though it’s a bit of a tight fit. Elliot shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, leaning back in the seat. They sit silently for a minute, until Tyrell breaks it with a question.

“Do you come here much? For your own enjoyment, I mean.”

Elliot thinks about the time Shayla dragged him here, how they rode the ferris wheel just like he and Tyrell are. He thinks about the other time he came here to overdose on the beach, and the kid that indirectly saved his life.

“Not really,” he answers.

“Joanna hated this place,” Tyrell says after a pause. “When we first moved here she told me to never bring her here.”

“No offense, Tyrell, but your wife sounds kind of like a buzzkill.”  
“Well, she certainly wasn’t your average woman.”

Elliot looks up at the roof of the car, chipped paint and rust in the corners. He peers over at Tyrell, who's currently staring out towards the beach with a distant expression.

“There was this girl I used to know,” Elliot begins, and Tyrell turns his head to look at him, eyes inviting his words. “Her name was Shayla. She was… I mean, she was my drug dealer at first, and my neighbor, but we became friends. We dated.”

Elliot’s throat starts to tighten. He’s never really talked about her, not after what happened.

“She took me here one day. We rode the ferris wheel, just like this, and we walked around. It was weird for me, but she didn’t really mind how awkward I was. I’d never really had someone accept me that way before, besides Angela.”

Tyrell is quiet a moment, considering his words. “What happened to her?”

Elliot licks his lips, staring ahead at nothing in particular. “She died.” 

His chest feels tight, saying it after so long, and his skin feels hot with discomfort. Tears start to come into the corners of his eyes, and he blinks them away as fast he can. Then there’s something moving in his pocket, and Tyrell’s hand his grabbing his, entwining their fingers. 

“I’m sorry, Elliot,” he says, squeezing Elliot’s hand.

Elliot closes his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. Talking is always so hard. He hates it, but he knows he has to, at least to someone. He could never allow himself to be entirely vulnerable with Darlene, never fully transparent about the things he feels and the way he hurts. It always felt too burdensome to let his problems out on her. All he ever wanted for her was her happiness and comfort, as much as it was possible to be gained. 

There was just something different with Tyrell. The fact he never grew up with him, never knew him until recently, and that disconnection from Elliot’s younger years is what somehow makes this more manageable. And, Elliot figures, it’s something to do with that special connection Tyrell has always talked about. He still isn’t sure what it is, and he’s starting to think he’ll never know. Some things always stay unknown. They simply exist, ever present in your life and without explanation, and it’s okay. All that matters is that they’re there.

Elliot can’t find it in himself to talk further. He squeezes Tyrell’s hand in return, and knows he’ll understand. He’s done a lot in even talking about Shayla. In the back of his mind, he wonders when he’ll be able to talk about Angela, really talk about her, or if he even will at all. That wound is all too fresh to consider messing with.

The ferris wheel comes to a stop not long after, and Elliot pulls his hand from Tyrell’s. They step out of the passenger car and begin to walk back the way they came. Elliot had told Tyrell on the way over he didn’t want to stay too long, throwing in a reminder that he didn’t want to come at all, and only agreed because Tyrell insisted. But, Elliot couldn’t pretend part of him wasn’t finding some pleasure in being here. It was nice to do something other than work all day on their project and go home to have restless nights of sleep. Still, he was getting ready to leave.

They end up back at the booths they had passed by earlier, and Elliot stops, glancing over at one of them. He looks back to Tyrell, who had taken a few steps ahead before realizing Elliot wasn’t next to him, and was now giving him a curious look.

“Could you go back to that hotdog vendor we passed by?” Elliot says.

“I suppose,” Tyrell responds, looking a little caught off guard. “What do you want on it?”

“Doesn’t matter. Whatever you like.”

“I’ll be right back then,” he says, and starts to go back the way they had just come.

Elliot immediately walks over to the booth he’d stopped in front of. It’s a simple balloon dart game. The woman working the booth asks if he’d like a turn, and he says yes, handing her some money from his pocket after she tells him how much.

“You get three tries,” the lady says, and settles back on the stool she’d been sitting on when he came over.

Elliot nods and picks up one of the darts laid out in front of him. He eyes the wall of balloons, and after a moment of consideration tosses the dart. The dart lands and the balloon pops. Elliot misses his second try. He pops another on his third.

“Nice job,” the lady comments, standing up from her stool. “You can pick from these prizes down.” Elliot ignores the ones she points out, already having known which one to pick before he even walked up. 

“That one.” He points to one low-hanging prize. The lady unhooks it from the post and hands it over to him, wishing him a good day.

Elliot looks to the direction Tyrell had gone, not seeing him coming back at the moment. He walks over to one of the nearby tables and sits down, keeping the prize in his hands close while he waits. It’s only about a minute later when he notices Tyrell walking back over, and he smiles to himself at the sight of the man holding wrapped up hotdogs, finding something about the image funny. Tyrell catches his eye once he’s up close, smiling a moment before a slight look of confusion settles across his face.

“What’s that?” Tyrell says, gesturing with one of the hotdogs towards the prize in Elliot’s lap.

“It’s for you,” Elliot says, and holds it up for him to see better.

“How’d you know I like sharks?” he asks, setting the food down and reaching out to take the plush from Elliot’s hands.

“Saw you eyeing it when we came in. Wasn’t sure actually, it was a lucky guess.”

“Well, your guessing skills are very good,” Tyrell laughs, his grin reaching his eyes. Elliot likes his smile, his real one, where his teeth show and the corners of his eyes crease.

Tyrell sits down next to him, cradling the shark plush as if it were a real animal he was holding. “Were you actually hungry or did you want me away so you could get this?”

“Both.”

Tyrell sets the plush on the table, sliding one of the hotdogs to Elliot. They eat together quietly, watching people pass by and listening to the crash of waves down on the beach. Elliot finishes before Tyrell does and he crosses his arms on the table, resting his face against them. He watches Tyrell, who’s looking away from him at the moment. Elliot thinks it might be a little odd to sit and watch someone eat, but far weirder things have happened in his life. A breeze blows by, tousling a few strands of Tyrell’s hair loose, and Elliot smirks against his arm at the way Tyrell tosses his head to get the strands out of his eyes, a frown on his face. Tyrell turns to him then, still looking miffed.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Just thinking.”

Tyrell falls silent while he finishes his food. Elliot closes his eyes, feeling a sense of serenity pass over him as the breeze blows by again and the sun warms his face and clothes. The sounds of rides going, people chatting and playing games, and the ocean waves for once don’t feel vaguely unnerving to him. He can only assume it’s because Tyrell is by his side, and his presence keeps him more relaxed.

Relaxed for the most part, anyway, because then there’s something touching his head and Elliot jerks up at the contact. He winces when his hair is yanked and he hears Tyrell burst into laughter next to him. Elliot realizes then that somehow Tyrell’s fingers got snagged in his hair when he jerked up, and a small wave of embarrassment washes over him, further ruining the serene moment.

“Calm down, Elliot,” Tyrell says, still laughing, and pulls his fingers loose.

Elliot runs his own hand back through his hair, fixing it back. “What’d you do that for anyway?”

“I just wanted to mess with your hair. I didn’t think you’d react that way,” he says. “You should probably get it cut, by the way.”

Elliot simply hums in response, standing up from the table. “You ready to go?”

“Yes.” Tyrell nods, gathering up their trash and throwing it away in a nearby trash can. When he comes back over to Elliot he picks up the shark plush, smiling down at it. Tyrell sets him with a look then, and Elliot thinks it's almost unsure. “You should come home with me. I’ve never had you over as a proper guest.”

Elliot considers it a moment. There’s a distant sense of anxiety at the idea, something he always gets when going to someone’s home if he’s never been much, and he’s only been in Tyrell’s home the one time. That he remembers, anyway. He had his landlord take care of Flipper for the day, so he doesn’t have to worry about her. Really, he doesn’t have any reason to decline.

“Yeah, sure.”

Tyrell smiles, tapping him on the shoulder with the plush and walking towards the exit. Elliot follows right behind him, pulling his hood up. Sutherland is waiting for them right outside the exit, and even after seeing the man several times, he still casts a displeased look Elliot’s way. Elliot just stares back as he pulls the car door open and slides in. When Sutherland gets into the driver’s seat Tyrell tells him to go home. Elliot leans his head back against the headrest, staring up at the ceiling of the car for the entire duration of the ride.

Apparently, Elliot had drifted too far off into his own thoughts, because it feels like no time has passed when there’s a hand on his arm and Tyrell is telling him they’ve arrived. Elliot gets out of the car, walking around its back to follow Tyrell up the steps to his home. He watches Sutherland sit there, observing them with a close eye through the window. It makes the hair on the back of his neck bristle. 

“He doesn’t like me at all,” Elliot says.

“What?” Tyrell says, distracted from the door for just a moment. “Oh, Sutherland. Ignore him. He hasn’t been in a good mood in a while.”

Tyrell’s welcoming him inside then, stepping out of the way to let Elliot through. Elliot walks into the living room, peering around at the decorations. The pictures in the house are still up, but there’s definitely some things he feels were once there but aren’t anymore. He guesses Tyrell broke them at some point.

“Make yourself at home,” Tyrell says, walking over to the kitchen. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Elliot says, sitting down on the couch. He feels a bit like he doesn’t belong here, what with all the expensive furniture around. He bends down and unties the laces of his shoes, pulling them off and setting them next to the couch. He figures Tyrell probably doesn’t want him tracking dirt across the floors.

Tyrell comes in a minute later, handing a glass of wine to Elliot. Elliot raises it up to his nose, smelling the wine. It’s fruity. He takes a small sip, and nods at Tyrell.

“It’s good,” he says, and takes a bigger sip. Tyrell sits down next to him, drinking from his own glass. Elliot stares down, using both hands to hold the glass so he doesn’t feel the urge to twitch his hands around with anxiety. He knows Tyrell is looking at him, watching closely.

“You’re nervous,” Tyrell points out.

“A bit.”

“It’s okay, Elliot.” Tyrell places a hand on his knee, squeezing gently. “There’s nothing to be anxious over.”

Elliot nods, eyes still downcast. He takes another sip of the wine. They’re both quiet, and it feels a bit oppressive to Elliot. His hands are starting to sweat. He mentally curses himself for the sudden rush of anxiety. He doesn’t know why he feels so bothered at the moment.

“You know,” Tyrell breaks the silence. “We never finished those movies you had me watch. You fell asleep and then I did somewhere during the second one.”

Elliot looks up at him then. “Do you want to?”

“I would,” Tyrell agrees, and laughs.

“What is it?”

“I think your eyes practically lit up when I mentioned those movies.”

Elliot tries to act bothered by that, but he can’t quite suppress the smile that tugs at his lips. “Hey, fuck you. They’re good movies.”

“Mm, I suppose. A bit absurd, though.”

“Maybe.” Elliot takes another sip of wine. “I did watch them when I was a kid.”

“Come on then,” Tyrell says and stands up, waiting a second for Elliot before leading him up the stairs.

Tyrell brings Elliot to his bedroom, and Elliot’s not surprised to see that it’s spacious and looks just as expensive as everything else he’s seen so far. He walks around the room, taking everything in while Tyrell pulls out his laptop. What does catch Elliot by surprise is the massive walk-in closet, filled to the brim with clothes, shoes, and other odds and ends.

“Jesus christ, how many fucking shirts do you own?” Elliot blurts.

Tyrell looks up at him from his spot on the bed, his expression affronted. “There’s people who own far more than I do, Elliot. Now, would you sit down?”

Elliot gives the closet a last look, noticing there’s still plenty of women’s clothes hung up. He walks over to the bed and settles onto it, pulling his legs up closer to his chest while Tyrell boots up his laptop, which only takes a second before it’s being slid over to him. While Elliot pulls up the movies Tyrell gets up from the bed, walking towards his closet.

“I’m sure I have a pair of pants you can wear,” he says from inside the closet.

“What?” Elliot replies, looking up as the words register. “Oh, yeah. Okay.”

Tyrell comes out a moment later, tossing a pair of pants onto the bed. He has his own clothes in his arms, and he walks off to the bathroom. Elliot takes the moment of privacy to switch out of his jeans into the other pants. He’s slightly surprised at how soft the material is, but Tyrell can afford far better clothes than he ever will. Elliot sits back down on the bed, finally pulling up the movie. 

Tyrell comes back in a minute later, wearing a sleeveless top and sweatpants, and Elliot can’t help but stare at the odd sight of him in something other than a suit. He doesn’t seem to notice Elliot’s staring, as he settles down on the bed and props up his pillow so he can lay back comfortably. Elliot shakes off the minor surprise and pulls the laptop between them. He hesitates a second before adjusting the other pillow and laying back in the same way Tyrell does.

They remain mostly silent while the movie plays. Tyrell makes a few odd comments on the cheesiness of some moments, but Elliot is quick to shush him, admonishing him with a, “Just watch the movie.” By the end of it, they’ve both leaned closer in towards each other, and Elliot’s head is resting on Tyrell’s shoulder.

“Do you want to watch the last one?” Elliot asks.

Tyrell hums in thought for a second. “I think we can save it for another time.”

“Alright.” Elliot sits back upright, moving his head off Tyrell’s shoulder. 

Tyrell closes down the laptop, getting up to put it away before turning the lights in the room off, asides from one lamp on the bedside table. He comes back over and pulls back the covers to settle in under them. Elliot unzips his hoodie, laying it on the wood frame around the bed, and gets under the covers as well. Tyrell reaches to switch the lamp off, but Elliot stops him.

“Wait,” he says, and Tyrell turns to look at him. “I don’t think I can quite sleep yet.”

“Okay.” Tyrell lays back down, resting his hands on top of his stomach.

They lay there together, a comfortable distance apart, neither speaking. Elliot stares up at the high ceiling of the room, but eventually shifts his head on the pillow to look over at Tyrell. His eyes are closed, and his face is relaxed. Elliot watches the way his chest rises and falls for a long moment, before deciding to break the silence.

“What were your parents like?”

Tyrell’s brow furrows before his eyes open, and then he’s casting Elliot a confused stare. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Elliot shrugs, breaking their eye contact. “Just curious, I guess.”

Tyrell sighs, and stays quiet for a long moment. Anxiety starts to creep up in Elliot’s chest, he’s worried that maybe he overstepped a boundary by asking. He swallows down his nerves, and opens his mouth to speak, to apologize if the question was inappropriate, but Tyrell beats him to it.

“I never liked my father growing up,” Tyrell begins. “He was… he wasn’t a very good man. He never hurt me or my mother physically, but he was by no standards a loving person.”

Elliot didn’t expect Tyrell to be that forthcoming, and he feels his skin warm with the nervousness that people telling him about their bad experiences always brings on. He doesn’t say anything, though. This is what he asked for. He has a feeling Tyrell is going to talk far more than just that, and besides, he wouldn’t know exactly what to say anyway.

“He made me chop wood a lot, for no reason most of the time. He was never very proud of anything I did. I’m not sure what it was that he expected of me, but I never seemed to be able to achieve it.” Tyrell pauses for a second, taking in a breath. “My mother was good, though. She was a wonderful woman. Truly wonderful. I still miss her.”

Elliot looks at his face then, and thinks he can see the slight glimmer of tears in Tyrell’s eyes. Normally he wouldn’t question further, but he can sense that Tyrell wants to talk about it, maybe even needs to.

“What happened to her?” he asks, voice quiet and as gentle as he can manage.

“She died when I was fourteen. She had--” Tyrell stops mid sentence, and in the silence of the room Elliot hears him swallow. “She had cancer. It came on so suddenly, there wasn’t much to be done for it. I… watching what it did to her is the worst thing I think I’ve ever had to see.”

Elliot shifts from where he’s laying on his back to rest on his side, closing some of the space between them. Now he can really see the tears in Tyrell’s eyes, nearly on the verge of spilling over. Elliot reaches a hand out, carefully taking Tyrell’s in his own. Tyrell closes his eyes then, his expression tense from the sudden rush of emotions. He lets out a shaky sigh.

“I can’t even begin to explain it. Watching her… deteriorate like that,” Tyrell says, voice straining. He squeezes Elliot’s hand. “I could see the death in her eyes. All she wanted was to die, and somehow, I think my father blamed me. I don’t know what for.”

Tears are sliding down from his eyes now, and his grip on Elliot’s hand is crushing. He sobs, and Elliot wishes that he could do something, but he knows he can’t. All he can do is move even closer, until his body is pressed into Tyrell’s side, and his head rests against his shoulder.

“My dad had leukemia,” he says, unsure if Tyrell knows or not, but he feels like he should say it.

“I’m sorry,” Tyrell says, and lets his head rest against Elliot’s.

“Shit happens,” he replies. It pulls out a quiet scoff from Tyrell, and Elliot feels a small sense of ease knowing he can at least not fuck up the moment with one person. There’s a brief pause before either of them talk again.

“Before I met Joanna, my mother’s memory was the only thing that kept me going,” Tyrell says once his voice has leveled out enough to talk. “She always told me that as long as I did my best, and aimed to succeed, I’d never fail in life. I… I didn’t enjoy living, during that period where she was gone and I had to live alone with my father. He only became more distant with me. Then I met Joanna, and as soon as we had the chance, we moved to America.”

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Elliot says.

“It was a long time ago. It doesn’t hurt now like it used to.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry about Joanna.”

Tyrell looks at him, tears welling up into his eyes again. Elliot wonders if maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, that maybe it’s still too sensitive for Tyrell to talk about right now. 

“I miss her every single day,” Tyrell sighs, a few tears escaping down the side of his face. “I miss my son. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to see him again, and honestly, it kills me. I don’t know if I could have managed any of this without you, Elliot.”

Not wanting to quite address that last part, and not feeling comfortable with such meaningful compliments, Elliot instead asks, “What’s your son’s name?”

“Elias,” he answers, a sad yet fond smile on his face. Elliot just hums. He likes the name.

“When all of this is over,” Elliot starts, fixing him with a serious stare. “We’ll get your son back. I’ll help you.”

Tyrell’s lips part, and they tremble as he barely holds himself together. A fresh wave of tears blur his eyes and mark his face, and his chest stutters with a quiet sob. You don’t know how much that means to me. Thank you, Elliot.”

Elliot doesn’t respond, instead closing his eyes, and nuzzling his face into Tyrell’s shoulder more. Against his bare arm, Elliot can really feel just how warm he is. Tyrell shifts away for just a few seconds, flicking the lamp off and shrouding the room in darkness. They’re still holding each other’s hands, and soon they drift off to sleep, and in Elliot’s dreams he sees himself sitting with Tyrell and his son, watching them play together.

______

When Elliot wakes up, it’s to Tyrell giving his shoulder a gentle shake. Elliot looks up at him rather deliriously, vision fuzzy with sleep. He can see that Tyrell’s dressed up in his suit, and Elliot remembers that the man does have a job he has to go to. Tyrell offers him a warm smile.

“I have to leave soon, but I fixed pancakes if you’d like to come down and eat with me,” Tyrell says, voice hushed. Elliot thinks he doesn’t deserve such nice treatment, but he won’t really complain either.

Elliot just nods in response, not willing to test his voice only moments after being woken up. Tyrell straightens back up and leaves the room to go back downstairs. Elliot sits up in bed, rubbing at his eyes until they begin to focus. He grabs his hoodie and pulls it on, getting out of bed and taking off the soft pants Tyrell let him use to pull his jeans back on. 

He heads downstairs right after, sitting down at one of the barstools by the kitchen island, two empty plates already set out. Tyrell brings a plate of pancakes over just a minute later, setting a container of syrup out and a small bowl of strawberries with it. He comes around and sits down on the stool next to Elliot, taking a few pancakes onto his plate and some strawberries. 

"Let me guess,” Elliot starts, reaching for the bowl and picking up a strawberry. “These are organic.”

Tyrell had just taken a bite of his pancake when Elliot spoke, and he raises a hand to shield his mouth while he chuckles. “Yes, they are.”

Elliot only nods, scrutinizing the overpriced fruit before taking a bite of it. It tastes like any regular old strawberry. He eats the rest of it before finally bringing a couple pancakes onto his plate, drizzling syrup over top of them. He can taste cinnamon when he takes a bite, and it reminds him of when Angela’s father fixed the same thing for them when they were kids.

“They’re good,” Elliot comments.

“Thank you. My mother made excellent pancakes, and if she taught me anything, it was how to make a perfect one.”

“She sounds like the best mom you could ever ask for,” he says with a fond smile, imagining a young Tyrell attempting to fix pancakes.

“She really was.”

They finish eating, and Tyrell takes their plates once they’re done. Elliot grabs the syrup and strawberries, trailing after him. He puts them both in the fridge, assuming where they belong, and Tyrell glances away from the sink to say thanks. Elliot walks back out, heading over to the couch where he’d left his shoes. He pulls them on, and Tyrell comes to stand next to him.

“Could you drop me off at my place?” Elliot asks.

“Of course,” Tyrell responds, and then gives him a critical stare, looking him up and down. “Just a moment.”

Tyrell walks over to the small foyer, grabbing a long coat and walking back over to Elliot. “Put this on.”

Elliot raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because it’s cold today and that hoodie does nothing to keep you warm,” Tyrell sighs.

“Fine.”

Elliot takes the coat from him, sliding it on. It’s a little too big for him, but it does feel nice. Tyrell smiles at him, just a touch smug at making Elliot agree so quickly. Elliot stuffs his hands into the pockets, and walks over to the door. Tyrell grabs his briefcase from the coffee table, and then they’re out, getting into Tyrell’s car and heading on their way.

______

It’s not uncommon for Elliot to be unable to sleep some nights. Truthfully, his nights spent sleeping and not sleeping are rather fifty-fifty, and right now he’s going through one of his sleepless ones. He’s sat on his couch, head against the backrest, staring up mindlessly at the ceiling. His thoughts had shut down a while ago, and he’s caught in a mental haze. He almost doesn’t register the sound of his door creaking open, and when he does his heart jumps into his throat. Terror grips him, and for a brief moment of panic he thinks the dark army has finally come to kill him.

It’s Tyrell who comes in, and Elliot releases the breath he was holding in. He makes to stand up and walk over, but Tyrell puts a hand out and loudly shushes him. Elliot’s eyebrows knit, and he watches Tyrell cautiously. He can tell now that the man is not in the best shape. His hair is messed up, strands defying gravity and sticking up, and there’s dark circles just forming under his eyes.

“What happened?” Elliot asks.

Tyrell sways a moment, blinking rapidly. Then he walks, or more staggers, over to the couch, almost throwing himself onto the furniture. He lets his head fall into Elliot’s lap, and a long sigh makes it past his lips. 

“Had to attend some ridiculous fucking Ecorp event,” Tyrell says, and Elliot can smell the alcohol on his breath with their close proximity. “It was torture. I hate being around those people.”

Elliot doesn’t respond. Instead, he rests his hand on top of Tyrell’s chest, feeling it rise and fall, and the steady beat of his heart. When he looks at Tyrell’s face he sees his eyes have closed, and his lips are parted. He’d fallen asleep as soon as he laid down. Elliot smiles a little, happy to know Tyrell finds that much comfort in him. He leans his head against the backrest, letting his eyes fall shut. He rubs his thumb back and forth on Tyrell’s chest, listening to his quiet breaths. Unfortunately, he can’t feel himself getting any closer to falling asleep, so he simply rests there, the mental haze overtaking his brain again.

A while later Elliot’s phone vibrates in his back pocket. He shifts up carefully, just enough to reach his hand back to pull the phone out without disturbing Tyrell. He’s not surprised to see that the time reads 9:53 am. It hadn’t felt like that much time had passed, as he knew it was somewhere in the very early AM’s when Tyrell had come over. Elliot looks at the notification he got. A text from Darlene.

>   
>  Darlene:  
>  idk if you’re awake but i’m coming over
> 
> Elliot:  
>  i’m awake. tyrell’s over though  
> 

There’s no response to his text. He hopes she doesn’t have something personal to discuss. He’d really rather not have to wake Tyrell up and send him out or have to go outside and talk with her. She isn’t that fond of Tyrell, and he doesn’t blame her for it. Sometimes he still has no idea why he likes the man.

Darlene arrives not too long after. She’s cautious when she opens the door, eyeing Tyrell laying in Elliot’s lap, and then raises a single eyebrow. Elliot’s face flushes, and he looks down. Darlene sighs, a hint of irritation evident. She walks across the room and sits down at the foot of Elliot’s bed, propping her elbow on her knee and resting her chin on her hand. Elliot can feel the way she stares at him.

“How long’s he been here?” she asks eventually, tone hushed.

“I don’t know. He came over really late,” he says, looking down at Tyrell’s sleeping face.

“Well, I hate to ruin your romantic moment, but you’ll probably have to wake him up.”

“What’d you come over for?” Elliot asks, finally looking at her. She sits silently a moment, staring back at him. She looks annoyed.

“I know you’re working on something. Not sure what, but I know you have to be.” 

Elliot tenses. He’s wanted to keep this from her. He doesn’t want her involved in it. If she died because of her involvement in his plans, Elliot knows he’d never be able to forgive himself. Darlene takes his silence as a confession.

“I want in. And you are not going to tell me no. I’m making this decision with a clear mind, okay? I want some fucking justice for what they did to Angela.”

Elliot opens his mouth, ready to decline her, but Tyrell starts to shift in his lap. Darlene’s raised voice no doubt woke him up. His face scrunches up for a second, then he opens his eyes, blinking up at Elliot. Elliot looks down at him, and Tyrell smiles.

“Hey,” Tyrell says, and though it’s only a single word and his voice rasps, it sounds so sweet. Far too sweet for Darlene to overhear. Elliot casts a quick glance in her direction, and Tyrell tracks the movement, leaning up slightly to see her. “Oh. Hi.”

Darlene gives him a tight lipped smile and a wiggle of her fingers as a wave. Tyrell pushes himself up fully, adjusting on the couch so he sits, pressed heavily against Elliot’s side. He looks between the two of them, and sighs.

“Do I need to leave?” he asks Elliot.

“No,” Darlene answers before Elliot can. “Knowing my brother you’re probably working with him, right?” Tyrell gives Elliot an unsure look, letting him provide the answer to that question. 

“Yeah,” Elliot sighs. “We are. But I don’t want you involved, Darlene. I can’t risk you getting hurt.”

“I really don’t give a shit. I’m going to help you with this, whatever it is,” Darlene insists.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to leave?” Tyrell asks.

“No,” Darlene and Elliot both say in unison.

Darlene gives Elliot a heated stare he avoids. He looks at a spot on the floor, willing this situation to stop to no success. All three of them stay silent for a strained minute. Then Darlene throws her hands in the air, getting up from the bed and walking over to stand in front of them.

“Would you care if I worked with both of you?” she asks, and it takes Tyrell a bit longer than usual in his still groggy state to realize he’s being spoken to. 

“Darlene,” Elliot admonishes, before Tyrell can speak.

“Shut the fuck up,” she replies. “Let him answer.”

Tyrell looks nervously between the two of them. Elliot is still staring down at the floor, looking like he’s shrinking in on himself. He faces Darlene-- who’s staring him down with such intensity he can’t help but to feel intimidated-- clearing his throat.

“It wouldn’t be detrimental to our project to have someone else. If anything it would improve our progress,” he says. Elliot sighs quietly beside him.

“See?” Darlene says. “He encourages it. Now let’s go. I know you don’t work on it here.”

Elliot finally caves, looking back up to her and nodding. Tyrell reaches into his pocket and pulls his phone out, sending a text to Sutherland.

“Sutherland will be over soon to pick us up,” Tyrell says.

“Oh, no, I’m not riding with you two,” Darlene says. “Just send me the coordinates and I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay,” Elliot says. Darlene gives a small nod before she turns on her heel and leaves without another word.

“Well,” Tyrell starts, letting out a heavy sigh. “Your sister has quite the striking personality.”

Elliot turns to him with an almost disparaging look, and Tyrell tries to keep a straight face, but he can’t stop the smile that quirks at the edge of his mouth. Elliot’s eyebrows raise a fraction, then he’s dragging his eyes away to stare to the floor. 

“I hate you,” Elliot deadpans.

“If that were true, then I don’t think I’d be sitting with you right now,” Tyrell points out, lifting an arm to slide around Elliot’s shoulders, but Elliot rises up from the couch as soon as Tyrell makes the motion.

Elliot walks over to the round table and grabs Flipper’s leash, and then calls her name. She hops down from the bed as soon as she hears her name, and bounces over to Elliot. He hooks the leash on and walks her over to Tyrell, handing the leash out to him. Tyrell creases his brow, looking up to Elliot with a question in his eyes.

“You’re gonna take her for a walk,” Elliot says.

“She’s not my dog to care for.”

“I’m gonna go down to that expensive cafe and get you coffee, and you’re gonna walk her while I’m gone.” Elliot throws the leash down into Tyrell’s lap.

“I don’t believe I’m in the best state to go out walking your dog,” Tyrell protests, despite taking the leash in hand.

“That’s what the coffee’s for,” Elliot says, walking out of the apartment before Tyrell can complain any more.

It doesn’t take too long for Elliot to get the coffee, and as he’s walking back he catches sight of Tyrell just a bit ahead of him. He maintains his pace, deciding to just watch him with Flipper. She’s ahead of him, tugging hard on her leash, and Elliot can only imagine the tense expression Tyrell must be making at trying to handle her excitement. A fond smile makes its way onto his face.

Tyrell reaches the apartment first, and he stops at the steps a moment to check his phone. Elliot walks up several seconds later. Tyrell glances up at him, then looking immediately to the coffee, and Elliot swears his eyes light up with glee to see it. Elliot raises the cup to his lips and takes a careful sip.

“I thought that was mine,” Tyrell says, the light in his eyes going dull.

“Mhm,” Elliot hums as he takes a second sip, and then hands it to him. “It’s good.”

“Thank you for the confirmation.”

Elliot nods his head, then reaches out to take Flipper’s leash. “I’m gonna go put her up.”

“Okay. Sutherland should be here when you come back down.”

Once Elliot’s back inside his apartment, he makes sure to set out fresh food and water for Flipper. He squats down to unleash her, and then grabs her scruffy face with both hands to plant a kiss on her head. “I’ll be back soon, okay?” he says to her, rubbing her head before standing back up to grab his backpack and leave.

Like Tyrell had said, Sutherland was pulled up to the curb when Elliot left the building. He gets into the car, settling into his usual right hand side of the backseat. Tyrell has his head leaned back against the headrest, hands curled around his coffee that rests in his lap. They start their drive to Allsafe.

“You good?” Elliot asks.

Tyrell hums, his head nodding jerkily with the positioning. Then one hand pulls away from the coffee cup to reach into his coat pocket, and he’s handing Elliot a ten dollar bill.

“For the drink,” he says.

“Nah, man.” Elliot shakes his head. “I won’t take your money.”

Tyrell sighs heavily, lifting his head up to look at Elliot. He gives him an unimpressed look, and leans across to slide the money into the pocket of Elliot’s hoodie. “I insist. Don’t waste your money on me.”

Elliot obliges him, not up to arguing with him over a coffee. Tyrell returns to his previous position, and the rest of the side is quiet.

They’re dropped off just a little ways away from Allsafe, the same location Elliot had texted Darlene the coordinates to. She’s waiting nearby for them when they arrive, and she comes over to them, looking as if her mood hadn’t improved in the slightest.

“Took you two long enough,” she says. “Now where are we going?”

“Allsafe,” Elliot answers. Her eyebrows raise.

“Alright then. Let’s get a move on.” 

Darlene takes the lead, despite the fact she doesn’t know the exact entrance they’ll be using, but Elliot doesn’t mind. He just follows along, and Tyrell follows him, silent by his side. Elliot and Darlene switch places once they get to the building, and he takes them down to the usual entrance and up into the abandoned building.  
When they reach the main floor Elliot walks over to his desk, sliding his backpack off and placing it in the seat. He comes around to the front and leans against the edge, crossing his arms. Darlene walks past and approaches the wall of notes. She’s entirely silent. Tyrell comes over to Elliot’s side, stepping into his personal space as he positions himself so he’s pressing into the back of Elliot’s shoulder. They wait patiently as Darlene walks up and down the length of the glass, taking in all their work. It’s a good few minutes before she speaks.

“You two sure have been doing a lot of work,” she says, turning to address them for one moment before her eyes return back to the papers. “I think we really have a chance at taking them down with all of this.”

“It’s not finished,” Elliot says. “We still have a lot to do before we can plan any moves to make. Anything we do right now as an offensive move would be like a papercut to dark army. We don’t have anything right now that’s substantial enough.”

“We do know what we’re looking for,” Tyrell adds. “Money is everything in this world. Whiterose wouldn’t be able to do anything she does if she didn’t have the funds for it. There has to be a primary source all of the money comes from.”

“So we’re looking at banks,” Darlene says.

“Yeah,” Elliot says.

“Well, there’s a lot of fucking banks in America, Elliot. How do we know which one?”

“We know it’ll have to be a national bank, so there’s widespread access across the country to the account. She’s more than likely using shell corporations to move the money around without it being noticed by anyone. If she’s using that, then there has to be an accountant or an attorney, or some person handling the money transfers.”

“Wire transfers,” Tyrell jumps in. “It’s the most efficient way to pass over money. Once they’re cleared by the bank the money is transferred into the account for immediate use. It only takes a day or two, and there’s always a request form.”

“We have to look for names that keep coming up on the filings of her companies and her partner’s companies. Someone has to be receiving the request forms so they get authorized,” Elliot explains.

Darlene draws in a deep breath, letting it rush out as she looks back once more to the wall of papers. She walks over to the two desks, unknowingly sitting down at Tyrell’s, and pulls her own laptop out from her bag. She opens it up, and then looks to the pair of men.

“Are we gonna work on this or what?” she says.

Tyrell and Elliot share a quick glance, and then Elliot steps away from the edge of his desk to circle around and sit down in the chair. Tyrell flounders for a moment, having lost his desk to Darlene. He steps away to grab a nearby chair and pulls it up to Elliot’s desk, adjacent to where he sits. Together, the three of them get to work.

______

Elliot is sitting down on the steps of the apartment building, smoking a cigarette. He watches cars roll by on the street, and people hustle by each other, eager to get home from their jobs and out of the chilly weather. Elliot pulls his hood a little more over his head. A couple minutes later a black Escalade pulls up to the curb. Tyrell comes out of the car, rounding the back and coming up to Elliot.

“You know, I can’t always come by like this when you ask me to,” Tyrell says.

Elliot stares up at him. “You always come anyway.”

“Yes, that I do.” Tyrell smiles. “What is it you would like to do tonight, Elliot?”

Elliot takes a slow drag of the cigarette before stubbing it on the concrete stair. He gets to his feet and walks up the stairs to the entrance door, motioning with a toss of his head for Tyrell to follow. Tyrell does as much, and Elliot leads them up the stairwell inside until they reach a singular door. Elliot pushes it open, revealing the roof of the building. He walks out onto the rooftop, gravel crunching under his shoes, and stops about the middle, promptly sitting down and pulling his legs close to his chest.

Tyrell comes over and sits down next to him, pressing into his side. He mimics Elliot’s pose. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Elliot staring up at the light-muddied night sky, and Tyrell looking down at the gravel. Eventually, Elliot breaks their silence.

“I used to go outside at night when I was a kid, and just look at the stars,” he says. “I’d do it with Angela or Darlene, but most of the time it was just me. I felt scared when I did it. Wasn’t really sure why until I got older.”

“Why were you scared?” Tyrell asks, voice soft.

“It’s terrifying to realize there’s an entire universe that’s constantly expanding, and in the great scheme of it all, you’re just a speck of dust. I just felt it, before I really knew it. It makes you wonder what the point is.”

“Some people take comfort in God giving us purpose.”

“I don’t believe in God,” Elliot says, looking at Tyrell. “Sorry.”

“Everyone has their own beliefs.” Tyrell shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me what you do or don’t believe in, but I do think we all have our fates, whether there’s an intervention on God’s part to bring us there, or some other natural force in the world.”

“I don’t know if I believe in fate,” Elliot mutters, and looks back up at the night sky.

“There’s certainly things that have happened to you that, in hindsight, feel as if they were meant to happen.”

Elliot considers his words for a moment. “I guess so.”

“For me, I feel us meeting was always meant to happen.”

“That’s pretty romantic,” Elliot jokes. His eyes are still skywards, but when Tyrell doesn’t say anything, he glances at him from the corner of his eye. Tyrell is staring at him seriously, a look in his eyes Elliot can only describe as when you’re about to say something that could either destroy you or heal you. It’s that look he always sees in his eyes, but has never been able to place.

“I’m in love with you,” Tyrell blurts.

Elliot turns his head fully to him now, staring at his face, lips parted in surprise. He searches for some hint of a lie, something that would tell him Tyrell is just fucking with him, but there’s nothing there. He’s absolutely serious. There’s tears resting at the rims of his eyelids. Elliot’s heart beats hard in his chest when Tyrell blinks and looks down, shame and disappointment filling up his eyes. He can feel Tyrell’s body begin to shift away, and it’s the last thing he wants.  
Elliot reaches both hands out and grabs Tyrell’s face, pulling him towards his own, and he hesitates just a moment before pressing their lips together. Tyrell’s hand comes up to wrap around his arm, and Elliot shifts closer into him, reveling in the warmth of his body. Their lips press harder together a second before Elliot parts away, still keeping their faces close. He lets his eyes remain closed as he leans his forehead against Tyrell’s. 

Elliot’s never been good with his feelings, and articulating them can be even harder. He can’t give a reply in words to Tyrell’s confession. It’s too soon for that, too soon for him to admit anything like that, because Elliot isn’t totally sure what he wants. All he knows is he doesn’t want to be alone, and Tyrell has refused to let that happen. 

If Elliot allows himself to think of the future, he can’t rule out the version of himself he sees with Tyrell by his side. He agrees with what Tyrell had said, that there’s things he feels were meant to happen. This, whatever they have, it feels like it was meant to happen. Elliot can’t imagine Tyrell not involved in his life at this point. But, despite this, he’s not entirely sure.

“I… I need time,” Elliot whispers.

“We have all the time in the world,” Tyrell assures him.

Elliot hopes, he wishes, he prays to the God he doesn’t believe in, that they have time.


End file.
